


Coup de Grâce

by LadamaB



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Magic, McAmari siblings, Mystery, New World setting, Slow burn McHanzo, Steampunk, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadamaB/pseuds/LadamaB
Summary: As public enemy number one, a true dragon has never been found in Civellan before. Prince Jesse directly defies his father to investigate suspicions of a baby-snatcher in their very capital and finds himself in over his head. The greatest human nation in the world faces a very real chance of extinction and this evasive Shimada is the key--now all Jesse's got to do iscatch him.





	1. With the catching ends the pleasures of the chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnnecessaryEllipsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnnecessaryEllipsis/gifts), [silverxtiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverxtiger/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha is tasked with being bodyguard and babysitter to her older brother, but no one can stop Jesse when he gets an idea in his head. Rarely is it to a good end; this is one of those rare moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "With the catching ends the pleasures of the chase." - Abraham Lincoln
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm back~ Make sure to comment!

There is a particularly vile pit in the Underworld reserved for those who deign to wake the _extremely_ hungover by ripping the drapes open.

_Schliiiiiiick!_

“Rise and shine, Your Highness.” The sickly sweet voice filtered in, honeyed to disguise the childish mischief Fareeha held as she pulled the canopy over Jesse’s bed open, allowing light from the previously opened drapes to filter right into his bed. The sound of rings sliding against the metal canopy pole was akin to nails on a chalkboard; he groaned and curled up into a feeble ball, attempting to hide away from the offending intrusion. “Wake up!”

“...G’ away…” Jesse’s vomit-hoarse voice groaned from beneath the rich brocade topper that he had buried his face in. Hungover didn’t even _begin_ to describe the acute headache he was experiencing. The Prince felt as if someone had taken a long metal rod and jammed cotton into his ear like a musket, tamping it in so tightly that his head was too heavy to lift. As his bodyguard began to poke at his bare sides with her white-gloved hands, Jesse bat them away and pulled the blanket up and over his head.

“Oh no you don’t--” ‘Reeha snorted, going to the base of the bed to get large handfuls of the topper and then rip it down off the bed. It was lucky for the both of them that he’d been too lazy to change out of his trousers before falling into bed the night previous. “Last I checked, you don’t get to avoid your royal duties simply because you decided to get smashed. Up ‘n attem, Your Highness.” 

He groaned, the broadly tanned shoulders flexing as Jesse attempted to force his aching carcass up into a sitting position. A few grunts and some needling two-fingered pokes from Fareeha later and he was sitting up in bed, pushing his long chestnut hair out of his eyes. To the women of Civellan, Prince Jesse of Stonewall was the most irresistible bachelor in the country. It didn’t matter which speakeasy he walked into, His Highness always found himself surrounded by women baring as much cleavage as their corsets would allow--which was a _lot._ Burdened with such a ‘responsibility’, as he called it, Jesse gleefully attempted to single-handedly satisfy every available woman who would have him--which, again, was a _lot._

“Y’know,” Fareeha drawled as she leaned on the tall poster on the royal four-poster bed, completely unimpressed by the rug of chest hair the prince idly scratched as he yawned, “If you want to be taken seriously in court, you probably shouldn’t be running around all night like a bitch in heat. One of these days, someone is going to show up at the front gate with a teeny Jesse and cause a _huge_ problem.”

“Yeah?” Jess grumbled, getting out of bed and dropping trow with absolutely _no_ concern for the bodyguard. He actually went so far as to snicker when she turned on her heel and looked back at the door, knowing the woman was blushing redder than a tomato. “‘N what would _you_ know about court? It ain’t exactly like yer allowed in.”

Fareeha’s lips twisted into a scowl, her modesty vanishing in the same breath as her patience as she flipped around just in time to catch Jesse slipping into the ensuite bathroom. His ass was as tan as the rest of him, a testament to the nude sunning he’d done in the private boarding school in the deep southern Cape of Yearning Reach. If the accent he’d picked up down there wasn’t enough to know where Jesse had been hidden away for the first 20 years of his life, the strange sense of fashion and gait would leave no doubt. The man walked like he’d been rough riding a poorly broken stallion for an hour straight.

“You’re right,” The woman regained her composure just long enough to smirk at him. She might have been the bastard child, but he was the black sheep. “However, you won’t be allowed in for very much longer either.” Fareeha pasted an innocent smile on her lips, turning to pull up the inner blinds on his huge picture window. A large zeppelin floated past with its shining brass fixtures, heading for the large raised port and far below the crowd on the boardwalk was dotted with colorful hoop skirts large enough to be seen from the palace living quarters some twenty stories above. A puff of steam filtered past the picturesque scene of Stonewall, breaking her trance as Jesse walked over to regard her with confusion.

“Whatcha mean I ain’t gonna be allowed in fer much longer?” His Highness asked, at least deigning to put on a pair of long underwear and start pulling a large undershirt over his head. It was almost as if her half-brother couldn’t read the clock sitting over his mantel.

“Well, you _are_ about two hours late for your first meeting.” Fareeha smirked, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at the large docking passenger airship that came in every day at precisely noon. “Actually, I think you’re twenty minutes late for your second meeting too.”

“Holy Mother of--!” Jesse’s voice ratcheted up into something just a step or two off of a shriek, the baritone not quite capable of it. “Y' couldn't lead with that?!” He cried, grabbing a pair of nice trousers and beginning to put them on with little jumps and shimmies as he attempted to button the fly up. He really ought to lay off the whiskey, it made him hungry for more than just women and the tailoring on these suits would tolerate very little change in body weight.

“Well, you were so busy terrorizing the help last night--” She started, smirking as the deep brown orbs flashed a glare in her direction. “So I figured we’d let you sleep since you so _clearly_ needed it.”

His Highness snarled out some kind of unintelligible slurry of words, most of them damning her to the abyss and back while he pulled his jacket on over the shirt. “Yer a lil’ _shit,_ y’know it?” Jesse spat, accepting help to pomade his hair back into something that might pass for kempt in court. “Jack’s gonna ream my ass fer bein’ late. Hell, _Pa_ is gonna be _pissed.”_

It was hard to imagine the jovial king as anything but happy but on the rarest of occasions, it did happen. Most of the time, his anger was directed at Jesse. The second-born child of King Wilhelm, the youngest child in all of the _official_ records, managed to infuriate him like so very few could. That was the entire reason Jesse had been shipped off to boarding school at 8 years old. He’d poured a bucket of water on the sleeping Fareeha because he didn’t like the attention the new baby was getting. She didn’t remember it, obviously, but it hadn’t strained their relationship now that they were adults. Even if he'd been a terror as a spoiled child, his days were spent trying to walk the straight and narrow while keeping unwanted attention off his younger sister.

These days the most strain on their relationship as half-siblings was court. As a bastard, Fareeha couldn’t even go in the door unless she was attending to Jesse as a bodyguard. Most of the more distant lines to the throne hated her on principle as her mother was from Medrawt, but that was another tale for another time.

“If you stopped getting drunk and staying out all night, you’d wake up on time.” She teased, taking his grumbles as the closest thing to agreement one could get out of Jesse when he was this surly. She slid the comb through his thick hair, trying to tame the waves and keep it out of his eyes. He had to look like he was at least _trying._

Jesse looked a lot like his mother, Queen Trinity of The People. The only non-nobility queen in the recorded history of Civellan. Presumably there had been more but she was beloved by all the commoners because she’d been one of them. Childbirth in Civellan was incredibly dangerous. Though it tended to be dangerous all over the known world, the extreme ban on magic here in Civellan made it even more terrifying for those that would embark on the journey. At least in Medrawt, if someone was experiencing complications in giving birth then a friendly witch could aid them through the process. There were no such creature comforts here; if a mother could not birth a child the natural way or with aid from a scalpel, she would die. Such was the fate of the late Queen-Mother.

Jack looked like his father, blond hair and blue eyes with a regal jaw and pale skin cultivated by the nobility. The responsible older sibling and fan favorite of the ruling class, Jack possessed the poise to navigate their parliament while still remaining in the good graces of the rougher lower classes.

Two sons, an heir and a spare; Jesse was expected to keep his entire life on hold in the event that his father and brother died. It would make sense, then, that Jesse would be more popular among the common man of Civellan with the dark tan of the common people and a rich twang procured from mingling with everyday cow hands in the vast plains to the south. It was not so, even the poor showed distaste for his blithe ignorance of poverty.

The youngest prince had friends in _extremely_ low places and nowhere else; the penny rags that sold on the steps of the palace loved to flaunt his nightly exploits in as raunchy a detail as possible and a majority of the common people believed that if Her Highness the Queen were still alive, she’d be horrified. It was probably true. Jesse pulled the knee-high riding boots on, jumping around and causing the gaudy brass spurs to jingle with each bounce. “How do I look?” The prince asked, his face scruffy as there was no time to shave. 

Fareeha heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes and pulled a hankie out of the pocket of her double breasted peacoat. She then used that hankie to gently rub the sleep from each of his eyes and then nodded. “Not great, but slightly less like shit than before.”

“Fuck you too.” Jesse grinned, nearly knocking her over with the force of his awful morning breath. He raised an eyebrow when a small tin of sweets seemed to appear from thin air and was thrust into his face. “Wha’s this for?”

“It’s wintergreen.” Fareeha answered, pushing the tin toward him once more. “So you don’t kill any of the diplomats with your breath.”

“Oh. Thank ya kindly.” Under all the bluster and cursing, he could be nice and after a mint had been taken, she hid the tin back into an unseen pocket in her bustle. “...didja just take that tin from yer ass?”

“No. It’s called a _pocket,_ Jesse.” She hissed, heels clicking against the floor from beneath the wide skirt that he was just now noticing. “I’m being forced to look _presentable_ so I have to wear a gown in court. The only upside of that is the pockets.”

“Awh, ‘Reeha… but I liked yer britches.” The prince was _absolutely_ whining, mourning the loss of being able to slide out of a room with his bodyguard and not cause a fuss. That huge cream dress would attract a lot of attention. The fluffy style was clearly his father’s choice, he’d always spoiled Fareeha absolutely rotten as she was the only girl, but she preferred to wear pants like the boys. “...Is that why yer wearin’ that jacket inside?” A dress like that likely had a plunging neckline. He jogged a bit to keep up with the punishing pace Fareeha was setting as she strode down the hall toward the large clockwork elevator.

 _“Yes.”_ The hiss came with a dirty look and a not-so-subtle adjustment of the collar. “It’s too low. My… my _breasts_ show. I don’t understand how this is ‘presentable’ and pants are not!”

Well, even Jesse had to admit that the logic was a bit faulty. Many of the more conservative members of the noble houses cited the trousers that women wore in lieu of a traditional skirt to be provocative while the exposed cleavage seemed to pose no conflict. Seemed kinda unfair to Jesse since all the skin was covered with pants as opposed to letting everybody and his brother oogle the goods. Jesse had no head for those kinds of politics; he tended to side with whatever Fareeha had to say on the matter.

“Well now, y’know I don’t mind yer pants one bit, ‘Reeha, and at least now ya got pockets...” Jesse started slowly, stepping into the lift with the woman and watching her fuss with keeping her skirts inside the grated doors. “But, maybe I could talk t’ Pa ‘n see if he’ll letcha get out of ‘em?”

 _“Don’t.”_ She answered with a hiss as the elevator descended past a few floors of living quarters and then into the cavernous gilded main vestibule of Court. The center of politics in Civellan, this was the meet-and-greet space illuminated by rays of rainbow light that filtered through both multiple story stained glass portraits of old kings and their exploits as well as a huge crystal chandelier. As the brass cage found its way to the ground level, Fareeha turned to look her half-brother in the eye and point a finger directly at his face. “Don’t you _dare_ tell father. He loves this dress and I’ll not have you ruin it for him.”

“Damn, ‘Reeha--” His good mood vanished as quickly as it came, pushing the bony hand from his face with a scowl. “I was just tryin’ t’ be nice fer ya. Ain’t gotta get yer panties in a twist.” 

Fareeha wouldn’t get an opportunity to rebuke his petulance. Jack, the Crown Prince and their oldest sibling, had strode right up to the pair of them the very instant they had stepped free of the steam-powered contraption. His usually perfectly coiffed hair had been disheveled to a spiky disaster and the powder-blue eyes shone brighter than usual in his rage. “Where have you two _been?!”_

“Awh, wha’s the matter, Jackie? Ya miss me?” Jesse goaded as younger siblings were so wont to do. His efforts rewarded him with a sneer that could have put a lesser man in his grave.

“I cannot _believe_ you would be so foolhardy and irresponsible!” His Highness the Crown Prince of Civellan was bitching; there was really no other term for it. Jack began to launch into another tirade, clearly thinking that chiding Jesse was more important than letting the younger prince get to his meetings. _“You_ were the one who was so insistent on having more duties. _You_ were the one who thought you weren’t important enough without a position at court and _you_ are the one who is never here when you are supposed to be!”

At least Jesse had the good sense to wince and look appropriately ashamed of his behavior.

“Awh, now Jack, don’ be like that--” The younger prince drawled, noticing the way Jack’s jaw seemed to clench tighter and tighter with each word he mangled. Jack was no fan of the way Jesse had returned from boarding school, oftentimes finding any excuse to correct Jesse’s grammar or syntax until their father had been forced to intervene in the petty squabbling.

“Don’t be like _what?”_ Jack snapped, crossing his arms and causing the royal blue jacket he was wearing bunch up at the shoulders where its fashionable but worthless leather sections sat bespangled with the clockwork needed to move his small mechanical lion. Jesse thought the whole get up looked ridiculous, everything from the tall brown riding boots to the red lenses on Jack’s bronze glasses. He looked _ridiculous._

“Don't be a raging _dick._  I overslept, Jack, it ain’t like I do it a lot.”

“Oversleep? No, sure, I’ll give you that much at the very least,” Jack spat, turning to check and see if their father on his huge throne had noticed the tiff yet. “But I’d almost rather you overslept. Instead, you run around all night with women of ill repute and sully what little dignity you have left by attending Court the next morning smelling of smoke and _whores._ Why can’t you just grow some--”

 _Respect._ Jesse was almost certain the next word out of his mouth would have been ‘respect’ had Jack not been interrupted by the young courier now bracing himself on his knees and panting toward the tiled marble floor. Luckily for everyone, especially Fareeha who would have had to rip him off his older brother if Jesse threw the first punch, what this courier had to say was more important than _sullying his dignity._

“Yer Highnesses, I come wi' alarmin' news from low town!” The boy gasped out through thick lung-fulls of air. “A newborn baby got snatched by a Dragon 'n the mother is dead!” The kid had lungs fit for hocking papers, booming through the Chamber of Commons and silencing both the nobility and those lobbying for their attention.

Every head in the room, both young and old, swiveled around to pin their eyes on the ruffian boy from the docks while he gathered his composure. “What?” Jack and Jesse chimed in unison; for once in their lives, the pair of brothers were both completely focused on the same thing.

“What’re y’ sayin’ kid?” Jesse asked, kneeling down to look the child in the eye. He seemed to be only about eight years old, if the shorts were to be believed. Most boys stopped wearing them after their tenth birthday, some before and very few continued to wear them after. Once they entered either the workforce or a university, those shorts would have been heavily ridiculed by the other children and seen as infantile. Jesse took a chance and revealed the tin of mints he’d pilfered from his younger sister when she wasn’t looking, offering him a sweet treat that a kid like him wouldn’t be able to afford.

“Yer Highness,” The kid started, wringing his dirty hands before finally giving into the temptation to pluck a treat from the crinkling tissue paper. “I was paid a whole dime t’ come up ‘ere ‘n tell youse that Mr. Ingram from low town ‘ad ‘is baby stolen by a dragon. Killed ‘is wife ‘n stole ‘is baby!”

“A dragon?” Jack squawked from behind Jesse, looking down at the child with a bit of derision. It wasn’t that stories of dragons were completely unheard of in these parts, not with the lesser drakes that stalked the mountains nearby to Stonewall and the myths of Dragons flying over the Grey Sea to reach landfall from the east, but a true dragon would be hard to spot in a crowd.

Drakes were some kind of unholy abomination. The dragons didn’t claim them as kin; they looked like dragons somewhat but they didn’t have magic and could not transform to a humanoid shape. Civellan hadn’t done any in-depth analysis of the drakes that lived in the mountains but similar species in Medrawt and Ulythyr were nothing more than mere beasts. The important thing was, if a drake flew very low it could easily be mistaken for a dragon and there was nothing saying it wouldn’t take a human infant as a snack.

“Are ya sure he saw a dragon?” Jesse asked in a more gentle manner, trying to use all the charm he’d gained in the south to coax more information out of this kid.

“He said it was a dragon,” It was clear the messenger hadn’t been told very much. “Said it killed ‘is wife ‘n took ‘is baby, sire.”

Jesse nodded and fished a gold piece from his pocket, a coin minted with his father standing proud on one side and the royal lion on the other. It was a twenty dollar piece and would likely feed this boy for months if he was careful with it. “Alright, I’ll be--”

“--An _investigator_ will be down shortly.” Jack cut him off, scowling at his younger brother. “Thank you for delivering the message. Please see yourself out.”

As the child ducked his head and ran for the door, clutching that piece of gold close to his heart, Jesse stood back to his full height and frowned at the Crown Prince. “Damn, Jack. Y’gotta be so cold t’ everybody? That kid don’t deserve that.” Jesse’s chiding only served to make the other prince more angry at him. “‘N why can’t I go check it out?”

 _“Because,_ you are a prince and you have duties here!” Jack’s voice was beginning to rise and that meant the room was turning to look at them. It wasn’t as if the Crown Prince was particularly collected at any time but he didn’t usually yell in public. “You can’t just run off any time a commoner says that they _might_ have seen a dragon, Jesse! Most of them don’t even know what a dragon looks like!”

“Yer guards don’t even believe ‘em half the time! What if it was a dragon? What--” 

“Enough!” Their father’s booming voice ripped across the vestibule as he walked in, clothed in shining dress armor and a frown. King Reinhardt Wilhelm of Civellan had entered the Court in the middle of his two sons bickering over whether or not one of them could go check on a trivial matter. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Members of the court dropped into bows and curtsies as the king strode across the room with his great steps echoing up to the high vaulted ceilings.

King Reinhardt was a behemoth of a man, standing head and shoulders over his adult children and even now in his old age seemed to be as youthful and exuberant as ever--however he still would not put up with a disturbance in his court. “This is unbecoming of a prince of Civellan. Both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” 

“Both ‘o--” Jesse started, anger twisting and he gripped his fists tightly with impotent rage. “I ain’t done anything wrong! He’s the one who started yellin’!” There was nothing he could do here. He couldn’t argue or persuade the king right now, not in front of the court. The entire situation was a misunderstanding and completely Jack’s fault. _‘But of course, I’mma get blamed fer the whole damn thing cuz ol’ Jack-o the golden boy ain’t never done no wrong to nobody.’_ There were days when he wanted to rule them all and there were days when he wanted to run and never look back. This was one of those ‘run away’ days.

“Father,” That snake could collect himself so fast that Jesse got whiplash trying to decide if Jack was even upset or not. “Jesse wanted to go chase a myth from lower town and I forbade it.”

“A _‘myth’?”_ Jesse’s indignant response was shrill for a man of his age, enraged and visibly shaking in the effort required not to punch his older sibling. “Ya just promised to send your personal guard to go check it out!”

“I lied.”Jack shrugged, “To soothe the child. There have been no dragons ever recorded making the trip across the Grey Sea, why would they start now? We know they rarely bother to cross the Shousan Mountains. It’s a myth, nothing more.”

“I-- What--” Jesse blustered, his tanned countenance turning red in frustration. “And you ain’t concerned that maybe this might be important? He knew enough t’ call it a Dragon and it ran off with a baby. Even if it ain’t a real dragon, if a drake ran off with a kid then we gotta find it ‘n kill it before it can get any more!” The king looked between the pair of them, his wise blue eyes tired. For just a moment, Jesse thought that he might have finally convinced his father and won against Jack. “Just this once, pops. Just listen t’ me this once. Can we really afford t’ ignore what could be a wild animal loose in the capital? I’ll go ‘n look. It can’t hurt nothin’.”

Reinhardt held his judgment for just a moment, pursing his lips as he considered both argument. “There is nothing to suggest that a dragon could have gotten in…” Jesse was going to lose the fight not to punch his brother in that smarmy smirking mouth-- “...but there is nothing wrong in at least going to check it out. Send a couple soldiers to address the situation and make sure they are dressed in full royal regalia.”

“Ha!” Jesse couldn’t help the whoop that escaped when Reinhardt at least conceded that someone ought to at least check it. “I’ll go with ‘em.”

“No,” Well, it was worth a shot. “Jesse, you will stay here and attend to the diplomats you left waiting all morning. Your duties are more important. Jack, please take care of sending the investigators.” 

Jesse visibly drooped at the thought of having to stay in a room with a bunch of stuffy ambassadors and diplomats. He wished he could be one of the princes of old, battling elves or conquering land and being a hero. Instead, he was stuck cooped up in rooms with these walking antiques. “But pops--”

“No ‘but’s, Jesse.” Rienhardt chuckled and began to walk for his throne. “Fareeha?” The old king called to his youngest, eyes crinkling at the edges and twinkling in delight. “You look _beautiful.”_

“Thank you,” She smiled and dipped into a curtsy before her king.

 

XX

 

_‘If he thinks I ain’t gonna go check it out anyway, he’s crazy.’_

The day had been busy and uneventful, trudging along slowly as diplomat after diplomat had talked to Jesse about things he couldn’t fix and didn’t care about. They seemed to have it in their heads that he could somehow convince the king to change his mind about anything-- oh, if they only knew how wrong they were. That little stunt this morning was the first time Jesse had successfully managed to influence his father positively in his entire life. Asking him to intercede on their behalf was just insane and stupid.

Jesse groaned some and stretched to try and get the cricks out of his neck from sitting in the chair for so many hours that day before beginning to pull his nice clothes off. Reinhardt had tasked Jack with sending investigators to look into the claim of a dragon but Jesse knew better than anyone that Jack wasn’t the kind to bend or change his mind. He could also lie to your face without so much as blinking. Jesse was willing to bet that Jack never sent the investigators.

“You’re not doing what I think you are, right?” Fareeha’s voice called as she shut the door behind herself, not even slowing Jesse as he pulled his gun belt on and holstered the six-shooter that he favored more than any other. Peacekeeper, the best gun in the world-- as far as he was concerned. “Father specifically said that you were not to go!”

“I don’t care what he said.”Jesse frowned, pulling on a hat and tucked it low to cover most of his face while he bent down to pull the legs of his worn brown pants over the boots. He’d gotten these, and the spurs attached to them, while he was exploring the southern plains and helping as a ranch hand. While Jack was up here safe in Stonewall, Jesse was out exploring the country they were meant to be governing. “Jack ain’t gonna send those investigators, ‘Reeha.”

  
She pursed her lips. It seemed the woman had changed out of the huge gown, wearing a pair of worn old trousers, a vest and a cream blouse. Jesse’s eyes instantly noticed the large flare-gun strapped to her hip. It was so long it very nearly touched the top of her riding boots. The problem was, they’d both been around Jack long enough to know that Jesse was probably right. It directly defied their father but Fareeha knew Jesse wasn’t going to let this go. “So you’re going to go and ask yourself instead.”  
  
“Yep. I ain’t gonna let a dragon slip out of here with somebody’s baby ‘n not say nothin’.” Jesse frowned, checking that he had plenty of ammunition in case he had to tangle with it. The Dragon was probably long gone but he didn’t want to accidentally fall into it unprepared.

“It could be a trap, Jesse.” Fareeha had been trained as a bodyguard and it showed because her first instinct was to protect the prince. “It could be the dragon trying to get a prince. There might not even be a dragon. I mean, the entire Grey Sea is in the middle between us and them.”

“‘Reeha,” Jesse sighed as he pulled a bright red, woven fabric around his shoulders and placed a cigar in his lips. “After school, I traveled all over this country ‘n I’ve been up there to the Cape of Freedom. You can see the shore of the Empire.”

“...What?” The idea that the Empire of Ryo was close enough to see from the shore of their own country was mind boggling to her. She’d grown up thinking about the Dragons as these mysterious entities shrouded in the fog and huge pillars of stone that rose so high that no human-made flying device could make it through. Perfectly encapsulated between the Mountains of Shousan and the Grey Sea, dragons could only come and go-- no other species could make it past those natural barriers.

“Yeah, ‘Reeha.” Jesse insisted as he opened up the double doors to his balcony and began to walk out. “I’ve been up there near Melluk Land in the north. There’s a wicked rip current in the middle that’ll chew up boats right through there ‘n a ton of fog but sometimes it’ll clear. You can see the mainland from our shores, that’s how close they are. We can’t get to them cuz of that current and how cold the sea is but there ain’t no sayin’ they couldn’t fly over _here.”_

That completely changed her thoughts on the matter. The younger sibling nodded with a frown, watching Jesse peer over the railing to the ground so many feet away. “So how’re you going to get down there? We’re twenty stories in the air, Jess.”

“Same way I get out every night t’ go drinkin’. Aintcha never heard of rope, ‘Reeha?” The prince snorted as he pulled a huge roll of thick rope from under his bed and began to loop it around so that he could repel down the side of the Capitol building. 

Fareeha grit her teeth as she realized that she was going to have to free-rappel down 20 stories where one slip of her grip and she’d end up a stain on the white granite stairs. “This is insane, Jesse. I can’t believe you’re talking me into this.”

“Hey now, I ain’t talked you int’ nothin’. Yer the one insistin’ y’ come,” and with that he climbed over the railing and began to rappel down the wall. As his head vanished over the side, she ran to peer over the side of the balcony and watch him. Each slip of the rope through his hands had her gritting her teeth in worry. Jesse was wearing leather gloves that were much thicker than her own set but that didn’t mean it couldn’t slip out of his grasp.

‘I can’t believe I’m about to do this.’ Fareeha thought to herself; even her internal voice sounded surly as she tried to gird herself enough to make it down the door. She heard a soft yell from below that indicated Jesse had made it in one piece. She carefully climbed over the railing and wrapped the rope around herself the way she’d seen Jesse do it and then slowly leaned back. Letting go of that railing was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.

Even from the ground, Jesse could tell his younger sister was not comfortable doing this. In the light of the moon, her posture was tight and she was barely moving down the wall at half the pace he’d been at. He supposed that was fair… ‘Reeha had always been one of those girls who liked to keep her feet on the ground.

He could also tell when her gloves began to slip because of the sweat on her palms. She’d managed to make it all but the last ten feet of the climb when her left glove, the one holding tension, slid sideways and caused her to lose grip.

“Aaaaaahhh!” Fareeha’s panicked scream as she twisted and then lost grip on the other hand to fall toward the ground threatened to alert every guard for 100 yards around but Jesse caught her securely in a princess hold so she didn’t hit the ground. 

“Shhh! Come on, ‘Reeha, yer gonna get us caught!” Jesse hissed, setting her back on her feet and turned to look for guards that might come toward the scream. “Come on.” He insisted again, grabbing her by the hand and pulled her toward the nearest alleyway to run through the shadows rather than down the road where a guard would recognize them.

“I _fell._ I think that’s worth _screaming_ about.” The bodyguard hissed, trying to calm her frazzled nerves as she followed her older brother. Jesse was so calm and collected but she felt like her heart was about to beat right out of her chest.

“I wasn’t gonna just let y’ hit the ground. You know that, right? If you fall, I’ll catch ya. Yer my sister.” For as much shit as Jesse talked about her being a bastard child, he was the only one of the royal family that would claim her as his sibling in any company. That was why he was her favorite, even though he could be an asshole.

“Well _yeah_ but I don’t… I wasn’t really thinking about that. I didn’t know how close to the ground I was either.” She blushed and crossed her arms petulantly as she looked away. The truth of the matter was that Fareeha hadn’t realized she was only a few feet above his head when she fell. Jesse smiled back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders easily.

“Yer fine. I’m just glad that didn’t happen sooner. I’da still tried t’ catch ya but it’d be hard t’ explain t’ dad if ya turned me into a pancake.” He snickered, squeezing her as they came up to something covered in fabric. Jesse let go in order to pull the tarp off of a motorcycle. The bikes were rare and valuable because they were made with such small steam rigs; they were hard to make and expensive. Of course the prince owned one. He opened up the tin on the side and threw in a match, lighting the engine before closing the hatch. “Hop on. It’ll take it a sec to be ready.”

“You sure this thing won’t explode?” Fareeha didn’t know how she felt about riding on a self-contained steam engine. The contraptions were rare also because if you didn’t keep a close eye on the pressure gauge, they could turn into a rolling bomb.

“‘m sure. I ride it all th’ time and I ain’t about to let my baby go up in steam. Get on, she’s gettin’ up t’ pressure.” He waved a hand. Fareeha still waffled back and forth between her feet a few times but eventually gave in and did get on the back of the bike with him. He threw up the kickstand and squeezed the pressure to kick the clockwork into gear. She wasn’t entirely proud of the noise she made as the mechanized deathtrap lurched into motion.

“This thing is gonna get us both killed!” Fareeha yelled over the roar of wind in her ears, arms tightly gripping him around the waist and eyes squeezed shut so she didn’t have to see just how close to the buildings they were as they rode past. The sound shifted as Jesse guided the bike out past the building and onto the road beside the large river toward the merchant sector.

Jesse’s only response was to laugh and shake his head as he tucked his wide-brimmed hat under the ugly red wrap and then kick the machine into a different gear and propel them down the cobblestone road even faster than before.

 

Xx

 

Locating Mr. Ingram’s home wasn’t as difficult as one might expect. Jesse smiled at a few of the local whores and tucked a gold or two in between some corseted bosoms and the house was located post haste. Fareeha didn’t even bother to roll her eyes at the behavior, too used to the way her brother knew every prostitute on the corner by name by now. Who even knew what kind of nasty bugs he had, sleeping around like he did. He finally pulled the lever which would close the air intake valves and suffocate the boiler on his motorbike once they’d parked in front of the town home.

Here in the Merchant class the houses were modest but well maintained. Due to the export of goods out to their colonies and rich resources in the Fae Wilds that were being shipped back, the rising middle class was starting to really show prominence. Jesse wasn’t well enough versed in politics to understand why Jack hated them so much.

“If a dragon really did take the baby do you even think it’ll be nearby?” She murmured, getting a shrug out of Jesse.

“Dunno. First I just wanna get the details ‘n then we can speculate.” He answered, lifting one hand to strike the door knocker against its plate a few times. Jesse did at least paint a charming little smile on his face and push the hat up to look like less of a hoodlum when Mr. Ingram answered the door. Over his shoulder, through the barely opened door, Fareeha could see a home that was impeccable. As a prince, living in a private set of living quarters with a full staff, Jesse wouldn’t know it but Fareeha could recognize that Mrs. Ingram must have been a superb housekeeper.

“Who’re you?”

Jesse affixed himself with the most charming of smiles, albeit sympathetic, before tipping his hat down lightly with the same hand that had his royal insignia ring on the pinky. “Salutations, I’m Prince Jesse. I had a messenger t’day that informed me of the particulars surroundin’ the death of yer wife. I’m sorry fer yer loss. Mah brother was supposed to send somebody t’ see ya but it’s somethin’ I needed t’ check on myself too.”

Mr. Ingram stood there in the doorway, regarding the ring on Jesse’s finger along with Fareeha’s official palace armor. It took him a moment or two to decide if they were legitimate or not, which Jesse had to assume was because of his demeanor and worn clothing but the insignia was clearly real--gold and rubies weren’t cheap so no one but the throne could afford a ring like that--and allowed them inside. “Well, you’re the first person I’ve seen all day.” He responded gruffly, still clearly uncomfortable by their appearance and the time of night.

“So, Mr. Ingram… Could ya explain what happened?” That was the first question to ask and really the only thing that he cared about. What _exactly_ had happened here? How did a dragon get a baby? Was it even a dragon? They hadn’t even made it so far as the table when Jesse asked, getting a bit ahead of himself in the search for answers.

“My wife,” Mr. Ingram’s face twisted in pain as he remembered what happened and his voice began to get thick. “My wife was pregnant and the baby was coming… She wasn’t doing well. The midwife was slow to arrive and she was beginning to fall asleep. It was that kind of sleep that… well, it’s the kind you don’t wake up from.” 

The prince bobbed his head, understanding what the man meant.  
  
“So, I… I began yelling to see if maybe the midwife was close enough to hear me and the door opened. I thought it was her so I said, I said ‘please help my wife.’ It was not the midwife.” The merchant swallowed harshly and rubbed his face. “It looked like a man but his eyes were slitted like a snake and he had scales on his cheeks and… and _horns._ He looked like a demon and he told me my wife would not make it but he could save the baby. I was frozen in shock.”

Jesse felt his face contorting into a sharp frown, Fareeha’s own lips twisting down to match. A humanoid like that could only mean one thing as only one species in the known world had eyes like those. This was a real, honest to clockwork, _dragon_ which meant they had a _serious problem._ The common civilian didn’t know about the eyes; it was a secret the royalty kept extremely close to the vest so they would know when a claim was real. This one checked all the boxes. “Go on…” Jesse coaxed, knowing there had to be more to it. 

“This man cast some kind of magic on my wife and pulled the baby out right _through_ her… He tainted my baby, Your Highness. He turned it into one of those thralls you hear about from over there.” He swallowed harshly, “Then he took it away. Ran out the front door and turned into that huge beast and flew away with my baby… when I came back inside, my wife was already getting cold.”

“This is important information, Mr. Ingram. I’m gonna look for yer baby, I promise ya that. Y’ain’t gotta worry about that, I’ll find yer baby ‘n get it back t’ ya.” Jesse promised, vehemently cursing under his breath. A Dragon? In Civellan? This was bad news… particularly if the dragon was smart enough to slide under the radar in a fully transformed state. Those suckers were _huge;_ this one had to be a conniving shit.

“I don’t want that whelp back. My baby died with my wife, Your Highness.” The statement set the prince aback. Jesse forgot exactly how strong the fear of magic was here in the capital. Out in the southern plains and the northern wilds, a hedgewitch who didn’t hurt anybody was left alone and even sometimes consulted when someone was too sick for science to help, but here? Here even creative runework could result in widespread terror. “It’s a thrall now.”

  
“Regardless of what y’ think ‘n yer prejudices: it’s still a baby, _sir.”_ Jesse’s voice had become tense as he stood and started to walk for the door. One more moment inside this hut with a man content to forsake his own child and Jesse would get violent. Jack would just _love_ that. “It’s a baby and I’mma get ‘em back.”

 

Xx

 

“Is that normal?” Fareeha asked, the pair of them sitting beside the now cooling bike. Jesse had been driving around for the better part of the night in the merchant district just trying to calm his head. That man was willing to abandon his own child and the only link to his deceased wife because some dragon magic touched it? He couldn’t even fathom that kind of blind fear.

“Shouldn’t be.” Jesse barked, taking a harsh pull off of his cigar before exhaling and composing himself. “Nah, it ain’t normal... At least, not further out in the territories. Here in the Stonewall, maybe. I can’t believe he’s willin’ t’ abandon his kid to get eaten or worse just cuz a dragon did some hoodoo on it.” Jesse shook his head and took another puff off his cigar. “It’s wild.”

Wild was certainly a word for it. Fareeha sighed, nodding as she looked down the darkened cobblestone street with a sigh. They were the only ones awake at this hour… hell, half the watch was probably sleeping on the job. They’d passed by a couple of guardhouses that they really should have been stopped at but nothing had happened. “...What do you think is going to happen to that baby?” She asked softly, mostly concerned for the infant out of this. Anyone who could abandon a child to this kind of fate wasn’t someone she’d waste the time to worry about.

“I couldn’t tell ya, ‘Reeha.” Jesse stubbed out the cigar and leaned back against the railing before tossing what was left of his smoke into the river below. “I don’t know much about dragons but what I remember don’t mention nothin’ about baby snatchin’. That’s usually a fae trick.”

It was weird in every sense. Dragons weren’t known for eating other humanoids, their magic was inherent as far as any records showed so they didn’t need a sacrifice like druids did on occasion… They weren’t known for being particularly interested in humans, so it likely wasn’t for curiosity’s sake. Jesse had no idea what a dragon would do with a baby.

If the dragon knew what was good for it, it would have abandoned the child and jumped ship. It was a fairly nippy night too, he hoped they didn’t find a dead infant in the morning. His eyes clenched shut, eyebrows drawing up tight with a shudder. The last thing he wanted to imagine was what it would look like--

Luckily for them both, they heard a sudden shriek pierce the night. 

“That sounded like a baby--” Fareeha spoke, an urgency leaking into her voice as she started to gravitate toward the bike.  
  
“There ain’t no way…” Jesse followed her and got it started before straddling the great steam-powered beast. “If it knows what’s good for it, that dragon would have run for the hills by now…”

The crying had continued, sounding as if it was no more than a few blocks away at most. It was so close, she abandoned the bike altogether and sprinted for the cries. That couldn’t be it. It had to be another baby. Jesse was right, there’s no way a dragon smart enough not to be caught yet would be dumb enough to keep the child _and_ stay in town. No way. She skid around the corner just in time to hear soft shushing and a male voice murmuring in a language she didn’t know.

“Stop!” Fareeha sprinted toward the dark cloaked figure, hearing the sound of the bike pulling up behind her at the mouth of the alley. Jesse would never forget the golden eyes, high cheekbones and expression of terror that passed over the regal draconic man before magic engulfed the side street and the huge transformed beast escaped into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  


	2. I've become a captive of my own ambitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I've become a captive of my own ambitions.' Patsy Cline
> 
> They catch the goal and lose the fight.

Fareeha only managed to stand there stock still in terror for a second before another shrieking cry from the dragon knocked her from her stupor. “Shit!” The woman began to jog and then pour on the speed, running after the creature as it rose faster than her human legs could ever hope to keep up with. “Shit!” She cried in exasperation, forced to sprint to even keep it in her line of sight. Running had never been something she’d been particularly good at, the palace messenger Lena had always been better suited to it, but Fareeha wasn’t _bad_ at it…

...but even the best human runner would never be able to keep up with a fully grown Wyrm flying at full speed. Buildings passed by, wind whipping her hair around as it came down from the tight bun and sweat gathered on her forehead. She squinted and tried to focus around the fact that each step jarred her vision out of place, trying to get an eye on the infant. This dragon was flying relatively close to the Elsewhere, the huge river that ran through the heart of Stonewall, and clutched in its claw was the lightly colored knitted blanket. That blanket, presumably, also held the child. Was it going to drop the baby? Was it going to crush it? Was--

A high pitched whistle caught her attention along with the revving of that damned bike. It’d taken Jesse a second to get it started but he was more than making up for it as he quickly gained ground on her. Fareeha raised her right arm and timed it just like she would for mounting a horse, their arms locking in the instant that the bike was beside her. A strong pull from Jesse and that was all it took to throw her up onto the back of the rumbling abomination, threatening to pull her arm out of its socket with the speed of the vehicle.

“Why isn’t it rising?!” She screamed over the howling wind, clutching Jesse tightly around the waist as they chased the dragon from the sidewalk that ran beside the Elsewhere. It would make more sense that it should be rising up and flying out of the city, but instead the dragon continued to gain speed and hug the surface of the water.

“Dunno! Don’t make no sense!” Jesse called back, his hair blowing in the wind. In their haste to get after the dragon, the prince hadn’t bothered to pull his hair back into a tie and now it was flying back into her face. It took a sharp turn into the heart of the industrial packing centers close to the rails and Jesse leaned into the twisting of the bike. Were Fareeha not so preoccupied with concern for the child, the way they both turned dangerously close to the cobblestone would have terrified her.

The dragon led them past the huge steam engines docked on the rails for nightly restocking, weaving in and out between the cars and then its claw drug the ground in a pivot to fly toward the twin rising silos where grain was stored from the countryside for distribution in Stonewall. Jesse grit his teeth and switched into the highest gear his bike was capable of, starting to gain on the dragon. It was too big to fly between the tightly packed silos and he was hoping when it realized that, the dragon would be forced to either stop and face them… or transform to something smaller and drop the child.

Fareeha gripped her older brother tighter, tense as the Dragon did land on the ground. In a flash of billowing smoke and arcing electricity, it transformed into a man in a long silk robe. He nearly fell, clutching the infant to his chest with one hand and the other caught the tracks at his feet to keep from crushing the child before righting himself and running from the still approaching bike.

There was no feasible way that on two legs it could outrun the bike, what exactly was it planning?

They barely had time to react as the dragon turned. It raised an arm that sparked in the night and his eyes lit up a white-blue. When it lowered that arm, the silos exploded.

 

\--

 

 _Everything_ **_hurt._ **

Jesse groaned, dragging his limbs from beneath the wheat where he’d been buried by the momentum of being thrown over the handlebars of his bike when the front wheel had hit the avalanche of falling grain. The dragon had used their crash, and the subsequent explosion of his steamcycle, to make a hasty retreat. This time when it turned into a dragon and flew away, no one bothered to make chase.

‘How long have I been layin’ here?’ Jesse questioned himself, groaning as the sudden change in orientation caused his vision to swim and brought a new spike in the new headache. It felt like only a few seconds but the sun was peeking over the double-decker passenger rail cars from where they were parked in the east. The impact with the grain--a foggy memory surfaced of the dragon using the grain to pillow their fall at least enough that they didn’t die--must have knocked him clean out.

_Fareeha._

“‘Reeha?” Jesse croaked, finding his voice after a few thwarted attempts. Moving across the grain would have been arduous even if he wasn’t injured, but with a smarting left arm and bruises in places he forgot he had, Jesse was barely able to drag his feet forward to look for her. His last memory before meeting the ground was his baby sister flying through the air. He stumbled, falling and the impact seared a white-hot pain up his arm.

“‘Reeha?!” Where was she? Jesse’s left arm buckled as he tried to push himself up out of the grain that continued to swallow his booted feet. “Fareeha, can ya hear me?! Where are you?”

No reply. He fought against the pain to stumble in the same direction his sister had been thrown, hoping to find her… hoping to find _anything._

Jesse stumbled again and this time when his body hit the ground he screamed with pain. A nasty sounding crack in his left arm and blood spraying hot across his face confirmed his worst fears. A compound fracture--the bone was sticking out clean through the skin and no one knew where he was. Worse still, Fareeha was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence she’d ever been there was the flare gun laying on the ground beside a woman-sized imprint in the grain and a ripped portion of ornately embroidered silk.

That fucking dragon had taken her too.

He grit his teeth and pulled the red bandana from his neck to tie it as tightly as he could manage with his teeth and good hand around the upper portion of his left arm so as to stop the bleeding. Something had been ruptured by the broken bone and it was now bleeding profusely. On top of the aching pain, Jesse was starting to feel light-headed. In his travels of the southwestern portions of Civellan, he’d seen some pretty grisly injuries, but this still managed to be among the worst.

If he couldn’t find some help, he’d lose the arm if not his life. These were things that people learned to accept when they lived out in the wilds and worked the land but here in Stonewall, one would expected expert medical care. Something like this shouldn’t happen, not here and not to _him._ Jesse had never been one to flaunt the fact that he was royalty, but right about now having that privilege and access to a doctor would be extremely helpful.

Jesse tore a piece of his shirt that had ripped when the bone tore through and jammed it between his teeth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue or grind down the ridges on his molars in pain. Another trick learned, surprisingly, by a hedgewitch. If anyone official asked him, Tracy didn’t exist and he’d never met her. If anyone else asked him, Tracy was the best inn-keep anyone could ask for and took no shit off of anyone. She was also handy to have around in the event that someone broke something important, but that was neither here nor there.

He tried not to think about the fact that his sister was missing. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d have to explain to their father why she was out here in the first place. Jesse stumbled and threw his right shoulder against a nearby rail car to keep from falling and slid against it toward where he thought the main office should be.

‘What am I gonna tell Ana?’ That was probably the worst thing. Ana had raised him after his mother had died. That was likely why he’d always felt like Fareeha was more than half his sister because her mother had always been his mother too. Jack didn’t feel that way. ‘Jack can suck my--’

That train of thought was interrupted as Jesse nearly trampled over Jack’s personal guard. Gabriel Reyes had always been at Jack’s side, ever since they were children and Jack wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to go looking for Jesse if he was found missing from his room early in the morning.

 _“Mijo--_ What happened to you?” Gabe asked, holding Jesse by the shoulders even as the youngest prince’s knees buckled dangerously. “Jesse-- Stay with me. _Mijo,_ stay awake.”

The guard whistled shrilly for his horse. His filly, a bone-white horse with black eyes like the devil himself, came galloping around a nearby car. “Get up on here, _Vaquero.”_ Gabriel demanded, helping Jesse to clumsily mount up on the horse before getting on behind him so the prince had support to lay against.

“What happened to you? Where is Fareeha?” Gabriel asked, already reaching to the large saddlebag radio to grab the transponder so he could call for medical to be ready when he arrived.

“The dragon…” Jesse croaked, each step of the filly rattling his arm and causing him to gasp in a sharp breath of air. “It took her. It’s got the baby and it took ‘Reeha. I… I ain’t gonna keep this arm, am I?”

“Don’t talk like that _Mijo.”_ Gabriel frowned, taking the reins and using his arms to keep Jesse from sliding off the saddle. It did look ugly and the hand was turning some strange colors that a human shouldn’t turn but he didn’t want to tell the prince that. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Don’t lie t’ me, _Cabron.”_ Jesse slurred, eyes drooping dangerously. Even with his makeshift tourniquet, he was bleeding all over his shirt and the perpetual tan in his cheeks was starting to get ashy and pale. “I’mma lose it. Ain’t no way this goes well.”

Gabe didn’t answer, he didn’t have to. The prince had slumped over against his chest and passed out due to blood loss. There was a very good chance that he was going to lose that arm; Jesse was no fool and neither was the guard. He knew as well as the next guy that anything that looked like that and broke in that way was very hard to save without magic… and there was no magician in the capital willing to work on a prince.

The Prince’s pain was a non issue at this point, his arm was more important so Gabe drove his horse into a gallop all the way to the nearest hospital. Jack was going to be _pissed._

 

\--

 

Pissed was a grave understatement. Jack was absolutely livid. “What do you _mean_ she’s just gone?” The heir hissed through clenched teeth outside the surgery room where the brightest minds of Stonewall worked through the morning to try and save Jesse’s arm.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, the black locks already beginning to curl back even though he’d treated them only a few days prior to keep them straight. “I mean that she’s gone. Jesse said she’d been thrown from the bike just like he had and we found her gun, but she’s gone, Jack.”

“What am I supposed to tell father?!” Jack growled, throwing his arms up as a nearby nurse shushed him again. He was really starting to get to the end of his rope with her.

“How about the truth?” Gabriel asked, knowing that he was treading on dangerous territory by even suggesting this. The truth of the matter was that Jack hadn’t sent guards to the merchant’s house like he’d said he would so Jesse took it upon himself to go. Fareeha went with him, as was her _job,_ and they found what Jack had been so sure didn’t exist. Now she was gone because Jack hadn’t followed through.

That’s not quite how the Crown Prince saw it.

“The truth is,” Jack spoke in a deceptively level tone even while Gabriel knew he was inches away from another outburst, “Jesse directly defied the king and as a result the captain of the guard--and his half sister--is now missing and presumed dead. That’s the truth.”

“Who are you trying to convince, here? Me or you?” He was likely the only person on the planet who could strike that tone with Jack and get away with it, king included. Jack actually ashamed of himself and turned his head to look away.

“My sister is probably dead,” Jack finally bit out in a rare moment of transparency and vulnerability, “And it’s my fault because I let my pride get in the way.”

“If she’s still alive, we’ll find her. If not, we’ll still find her and we’ll kill that monster.” Gabe promised, crossing his heart with one hand. “In the meantime, we have to help Jesse.”

The nurse had come out only moments before this conversation to tell them that despite the best efforts of their resident doctor, there was a very good chance he’d never be able to use his arm again--if the blood loss didn’t kill him. Jesse was tough as nails and more worldly wise than most in the royal house, but that didn’t make him infallible. It didn’t make him immortal either.

“What do you mean ‘we’,” Jack asked suspiciously. Gabriel, like Ana, was from Medrawt and he had a far laxer idea of what was acceptable as far as magic was concerned. “What do you propose _I_ do?”

If it had been anyone else, they would have been executed on the spot for even bringing it up but this was Gabriel and he got away with things that no one else ever would. “The elf woman…” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.” Jack threw one of his arms out, completely disregarding even the idea of bringing an elven magician into this conversation. _“No!_ Gabe, that’s--” The crown prince lowered his voice dangerously, “Gabe that’s _illegal.”_

That raised eyebrow became a satisfied smirk. When Jack was forced to resort to legality in a situation it meant that Gabe had already won the argument. “And remind me the last time you cared about what was legal?”

Jack wasn’t amused. The Crown Prince frowned so heavily that Gabe worried for a moment that he’d lost the argument on principle… but then he uncrossed his arms and relaxed his posture while rubbing his forehead. “What makes you think she can even help? She won’t even talk to us.”

“Surely can’t hurt?” Well, she could kill Jesse but he might die anyway at this rate.

“If this goes poorly, you're sleeping on the couch." Jack's sad attempt at humor was the best he could drum up considering the circumstances.

“Oh no,” Gabriel drawled lazily, smirking once more as they began to walk toward the dungeons, “Whatever will I do?”

Their good humor was broken when a pained wail came from the operating room. Even though Jesse was supposed to be out cold for this, it wasn’t unheard of for people to wake up in the middle of an operation due to pain. Jack made a brief eye contact with his guard before they started to run. 

Gabriel lead the charge down the stairs toward the deepest portions of the main castle. Jack kept his prisoners away from the general population and his father’s wandering eyes. No one but his hand-picked guards were to come into this section of the dungeons. The guard pat down his pockets and reached out for his ring of keys and unlocked the ancient iron door. They had to shove their shoulders against it to get it to creak open, which was a testament to the last time they’d been down here, and looked around.

“Shit, you figure she’s still alive?” Gabe asked with a slight frown. If the elf had died because they’d forgotten about her, that would be the fastest way for the plan to go to hell.

“She’s alive.” Jack snarled, walking forward with confidence. “I made sure she had plenty of rations.” For all of his faults, the Crown Prince wasn’t about to squander an important resource. An elf that had shown the amount of magical power that this one had when they captured her was too valuable to neglect.

He walked forward to the cell and was instantly hit by the _stench._ The conditions down here were deplorable but as far as he was concerned, she was an enemy of the state and didn’t deserve anything else. Sure enough, the elf was alive. She’d kept the refuse to one side of the small cell and her sleeping body laid on the shredded remains of a riding cloak on the other side along with the dwindling rations. “Wake up, I have use of you.” He called, giving the cell door a vicious rattle.

The elf rolled off her cloak quickly, hands filling briefly with light before the runed collar around her neck caused her to fall to her knees with a scream. Jack smirked with victory, enjoying the fact that a magician could be reduced to this so easily with their technology. She’d killed an entire regimen of men before they’d captured her and he received a sadistic sort of pleasure from watching the redhead writhe on the floor.

“Perhaps next time you’ll have the good sense not to try and attack me.” He chuckled, ignoring the intense silence from his guard. Gabriel would rather kill someone than imprison them. “Stand up, wench.”

She was filthy. He could have sworn she had been a pale white when they captured her but it was impossible to tell. “Get me a shift.” Jack instructed Gabriel who was all too eager to get out of that dungeon.

The crown prince pulled a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket and pulled them on with a clinical disinterest before grabbing the elf by the upper arm. She was too weak from staying in such a small cell for so long to fight him more than just clawing at the gloves and then sagging under the weight of her legs. “Unhand me--” The elven woman rasped, once again clawing at his arm.

“Uh uh uh, play nice.” He chuckled, dragging her down the hall to the room filled with a well. This was where most of the water for the lower dungeons was drawn up. “You’ve got a date with destiny. Stand there and look cute, would you?”

Mismatched eyes glared at him as the woman clenched her hands tight. The long weeks spent in this cell had done a number on her nails. They’d gone from tightly manicured to long and almost claw-like. Just more evidence in Jack’s mind that she was nothing more than an animal taught a few more tricks.

He pulled out a short knife from his pocket and walked closer to her before reaching out. When the redhead tried to bite him for his trouble, Jack backhanded her with all the power of years of military training. “Do _not_ think to deny me.” He spat, starting to cut the filthy fabric off of her even as she scrambled to keep it on to preserve her modesty.

“I’d rather die than let you have your way. Or _gawk._ ” She spat. If looks could kill, those heterochromatic eyes would have put him six or twelve feet in the ground.

“I have no desire to… to ‘gawk’ at you. Nor do I want to touch you.” Jack spat, pulling the dress off and tossing it in the corner even as the Elven woman spun to face the wall so she could preserve whatever modesty she had. “I need you _clean.”_ He turned and grabbed a nearby bucket that had an old bar of soap in it. With a quick motion, he flipped the bucket over and tossed the soap onto the ground before attaching it to the chain mechanism hanging above the hole in the floor and then tossed the bucket down the hole.

Jack watched as the handle spun in circles as the weight of the bucket pulled the chain down the hole and ended with a dull splashing sound. He let it sink into the water before pulling the bucket back up to the surface.

The scream the elf made when he doused her in frigid water was worth the work of hauling it back up. He then grabbed the bar of soap and handed it to her. “I’m not about to wash you. Scrub down and do it good.” He instructed, tossing the bucket back into the hole for a second time. The elf was shaking and the tips of her pointed ears were turning blue.

Gabriel returned just in time to watch his prince throw another bucket of ice cold water over her. “Jack,” He spoke softly, tone grave as she shivered violently against the stone wall. It looked… well, it looked bad. Gabriel knew that Jack had no interest in the elven woman but it looked _bad._

“Did you bring the dress?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow and pulled a dusty towel from a nearby shelf. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time this part of the dungeon had been stocked. It wasn’t uncommon to wash prisoners before they were taken up to see his father; Reinhardt had no stomach for the nitty gritty of being king. He wasn’t like Jack. The Crown Prince had the stones to take care of anything that needed to be done--even the questionable things. Things like this. He reached out to hand the towel to the elven woman. When she reached out to take it, Jack dropped it into the water below with a smarmy ‘whoops’.

They locked eyes for a moment or two, her mismatched eyes challenging his powder blue set, before she finally bent down and picked up the towel off the wet floor and began to dry off with shaking hands. “Good to see you bowing to your betters.” There was something about the flash of promised violence in her eyes that made the barbs worth it. He found most elves that he met uninteresting. They were too calm and above it all, as if their long lives made interacting with humans little more than a chore. This one hated them with all the vehemence of an orc and he particularly enjoyed knowing she could crush him with a whim had he not had her under his heel.

“Yeah, I brought it.” Gabriel spoke, offering a thin linen dress with no embellishments on it. It was one of the simple garments that the maids up in the castle wore. It would be far too large for her waifish figure, and likely too short as well, but it was better than absolutely nothing. “She’s going to freeze up there, Jack. She can’t heal him if she’s shivering.”

“Then you can figure out how to warm her up since you seem to be so fond of the _elf._ Honestly, I don’t understand you some days.” Jack turned on his heel and strode for the door even as Gabriel was pulling his long riding cloak off and trying to wrap it over the elf woman’s shoulders.

“I do not need nor want your help, _half-blood.”_ The redhead snarled, shoving the cloak to the ground before she begrudgingly followed the prince.

He stood there for a moment, loitering in front of his fallen cloak and staring after them both. Gabe raised one hand to hesitantly run his fingers over the curved shell of his ear to the place where it almost imperceptibly pointed. He shook his head, huffing lightly and bent to gather the cloak from the ground before locking the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been so long, guys. I got my associates but the last semester just took forever.


	3. Thou canst not think worse of me than I do of myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[T]hou canst not think worse of me than I do of myself.”  
> ― Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer for me to get out than I was hoping it would, but it's some meat and potatoes for all you lore lovers out there!
> 
> Special thanks to UnnecessaryEllipses for helping me deal with my author anxiety and for featuring my Max in her newest rendition of Of Men and Monsters! Go check that out!

_Tap tap tap tap tap tap…_

The sharp sounds were executed with purpose, clicking across stone then rustling through something soft only to end on wood. It sounded like footsteps, it was the proper gait for them, about 20 strides across before pausing for what seemed like a turn and then beginning again. Fareeha was slow to recognizing exactly what she was hearing, partly because it felt as if she’d been trampled by a herd of angry buffalo, and partly because of the _shrieking_ infant, but someone was certainly pacing.

The world swam in and out for a few more minutes as she started to slowly get her bearings. The smell of fresh alfalfa hay, fur, oiled leather and the soft snorts of stabled horses. It was clearly a barn of some kind, as she could hear the soft clucking of chickens in their pen and the slurping and snorting of pigs emptying a trough nearby, and that didn’t make sense. She rolled onto her side, trying to push herself up into a sitting position only to slide right off whatever she’d been laid on and fell into a pile of discombobulated woman and silk. 

The tapping footsteps outside of wherever she was paused, though the baby continued to wail, and then they got closer. She realized that she was actually in a cave-turned-stable and had been laid on a square bale of hay with a thick brocade between her and the silk that was now wrapped around her legs and making it difficult to get up as her riding boots kept getting caught in it. The crying got closer.  
  
Fareeha looked through the nearby doorway, trying to decide what time of day it was and how long she’d been out for as she frantically pulled the fabric away from her feet. It was bright outside, but that told her essentially nothing. It could be high noon for all she knew.  
  
As the guard rolled onto her feet, discarding the silk she hadn’t had time to inspect, a man walked around the high wooden doorway. She barely recognized those same regal cheekbones in the broad daylight as when she’d seen them the night before. It was, instead, the slitted golden eyes shining with untold magic above them that identified this as the dragon.

Fareeha backed against the back wall, swallowing thickly around a nervous lump quickly forming in her throat. She’d seen her fair share of shirtless men, being both a guard and Jesse’s sister meant being inundated with more naked male asses than any lady of good standing should see, but there was something imposing about this one. Perhaps it was the strange dragon tattoo coiling around his left arm where it cradled the wailing newborn or perhaps it was where the vibrant blue scales sparkled where nipples would have been and below a dip in his abdomen where ordinary human men would have had a belly button.

Besides the beard and long hair on his head, the dragon didn’t have any other body hair. Anywhere there usually would have been some, such as his arms or chest, there was instead more sapphire scales that seemed to shine golden in the filtered sun. He frowned, it was a natural expression on him. 

Fareeha didn’t quite know how to react when the dragon waved his arm and a previously invisible warding glowed and then unraveled itself so he could walk in and thrust the baby toward her. What _exactly_ did he expect her to do with that?  
  
When she made no move to take the child, his eyes narrowed and the frown deepened. “Feed him.”  
  
_Oh._

That paired with the very obvious glance to her chest seemed to explain why she’d been taken with rather than just left in the grain along with Jesse. This dragon seemed to think she could feed the child.

“I can’t.” Fareeha said, flinching as he snorted a puff of irritated smoke through his nose and pushed the child toward her again.

“Can’t or won’t? He’s hungry.” This dragon wasn’t used to hearing ‘no.’  
  
_“Can’t.”_ She hissed, pushing herself as flat against the wall as possible. “I can't make milk. Haven’t you ever had any cows? Mammals don’t produce milk till they’ve had children.”  
  
He pursed his lips, turning to shush the infant with a bouncing that wasn’t quite natural but a good attempt for one completely out of his realm of knowledge. After a moment of as close a thing to silence as they would get until the child was fed or starved, he looked back at her. “I wouldn’t know. Dragons cannot drink milk, it makes us sick.”

The apology wasn’t said but she’d dealt with enough noble men to hear it in his tone. Fareeha slumped against the wall but didn’t completely let her guard down. He was dangerous, everything she’d ever known told her that he was dangerous, and yet with the dragon awkwardly bouncing a human child and murmuring to him in his foreign tongue, he didn’t seem so scary.

She looked down as the dragon walked back out of the stall, realizing that the silken cloth she’d been laying on to protect her from the hay was the very same robe he’d been wearing while they chased him.  
  
“What do I feed human babies if mother’s milk is not available?” Fareeha startled, looking up and winced as the full force of the scabbed wound on her forehead made itself known.  
  
“Goats milk will usually work in a pinch. It’s not as good, but it’s a decent substitute.” That much she knew, at least. Her mother was a nanny, as well as many other professions, and some things just stuck.

He nodded, pursing his lips before walking away. Fareeha began to slowly take stock of her injuries. A busted lip, a large gash on her forehead and crusted blood in her hair, her entire side felt bruised from the impact of landing in the grain. Once the adrenaline from confronting the Dragon ebbed, she felt the world spinning again. Fareeha slid to sit on the ground and buried her throbbing head in her hands. 

“Do you want me to heal you?”  
The dragon had returned. She raised her head so fast that for a moment everything was black and then swallowed a bout of nausea. It was almost completely certain that she had a concussion. “Why haven’t you already healed me?”

“Civellian humans don’t like magic.” He said it as a fact as he squat in front of her and peered with curious golden slitted eyes. With his head cocked to the side like that, he reminded her of a cat.

“Since when do dragons care about what humans do and don’t like?” Fareeha quipped before she could really stop herself, waiting for some kind of reprimand. The only result was that his frown became a scowl.

“The last human I attempted to help threw an infant at me.” 

She was shocked into silence. The man had _thrown_ a baby? Was that a sick joke? “What-- Are you saying he--”  
  
“I had to catch the child, yes. I didn’t wish for you to try and kill yourself. I need your help.” There it was, the hook. The culture of Civellan was one filled with warnings to children about distrusting the machinations of dragons and steering clear from their manipulations; it all went back to the day they had conquered the land from the dragons and escaped the magic-steeped Medrawt. Ever since they’d settled into this uneasy peace, children had been warned that dragons would do whatever it took to take the land back and would kill and maim any human in their way. This dragon wanted Fareeha to help him which was the only reason he cared about her well-being at all.

There was only one thing that didn’t really fit with that narrative--the baby. If he wanted to eradicate the human population on Civellan, why would he bother to go to such lengths to feed a child? Perhaps even Dragons liked to have pets.

“I have to give the baby back.” Fareeha puffed her chest out stubbornly as the dragon snorted once more through his nose. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to being scoffed at but this seemed to be more annoyance than true contempt.

“That man _threw_ the child at me. It’s a wonder it isn’t dead, I’m not giving it to him. He can’t be trusted with his own life, much less an infant.”

“Then give him to me!” Fareeha countered, following the dragon once more as he moved to pace with the child bouncing in his arms.

“Why? He’s been touched by magic. How do I know you won’t kill him?” This dragon was a tough nut to crack. 

“I won’t. On my honor. What did you need my help with? I’ll prove it to you.”  
  
The dragon stopped and a tension spread through his broad, bespeckled shoulders before he turned. In this light the long horns that came from behind pointed ears looked like some kind of demonic horn. It hit her, in that moment of dark silhouette and glowing golden eyes, that this creature could level this city to the ground and she was trying to make a deal with it.

“If you are willing, I need milk promptly.” The dragon seemed unwilling to allow her to leave but his transformed form was easily noticed even with the trappings of human.

Fareeha pat down her corset, checking that her coin-purse was still at her waist, and then nodded curtly. “Will you be here when I return?”

“If you bring guards, I won’t be here.” He warned and the golden eyes narrowed to nothing but slivers framed in thick lashes.

“I won’t.” She wasn’t stupid enough to risk the infant’s life when he seemed willing to bargain with her. Dragons liked to make deals; this was a good trade. She began to move for the door and a stripe of white-hot pain licked up her side from the knee as she tried to put more than just a brief shift of weight onto it.

“You gravely injured that knee when you fell.” It seemed he was aware of that injury. Fareeha found herself wondering what else he was aware of.

“Can you heal me?” It was worth a shot. Dragons were the most powerful mages in the world and their long lives allowed them to be proficient with multiple forms of magic rather than needing to specialize in only one or two like humans in Medrawt or elves.

“If you consent to it.” The uncomfortable twist of his lips had returned. It occurred to her that she didn’t even know this dragon’s name.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m in pain.” Fareeha hobbled back to the bale of hay and sat down heavily. It wasn’t common that the entire bale would be drug inside the stables like this. The farmer hadn’t even bothered to smooth out the threshing after he’d done it.

“You won’t try to kill yourself?” He was fixated on that single detail. What did a dragon care about a single human life? It wasn’t as if he had to look far for a replacement--another woman might even be capable of producing milk for the baby.

“No, I won’t. What does it even matter to you?” Anyone could get him milk from the market and it wasn’t as if she were a real princess with any clout to use in his favor.

“Human lives are so fleeting, why waste it?” With that he reached out and gently cupped her jaw. Magic that tingled like a shock that came with only warmth and no pain briefly skittered over her skin and then as soon as it came it was gone. The dragon retreated to the stall he’d been bouncing the infant in and she gingerly shifted her knee to check it. Surely enough, all evidence there had ever been an injury was gone.

“Are you just going to sit there with your mouth gaping open? Go get milk for the baby.” The benevolent near-deity from before was once again a snappy lizard that wanted his way. Dragon or human, pissy men seemed to be a world-wide phenomenon.  
  
“Fine, Fine. I’m going.” She grumbled and strode out the door to find her way to the nearest market.

 

Xx

 

As a general rule, the human population of Civellan lived blissfully unaware of the other species that lived in their ranks. Everything from elves in disguise to fae slipped in and out of the soot-covered alleyways and the humans were content to tell themselves that Magic was evil and humans were the sole inhabitants of the island-continent.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

The greatest lie that the people of this obsessively patriotic country told themselves was that half-blooded humans didn’t exist and if they _did_ exist, they’d be easy to spot. For all the vast magic stored in dragons, the brute strength of orcs, the knowledge locked away in the very genome of an elf or the charisma that faekin possessed, humans alone had the ability to mix with anything and produce viable offspring. Half-dwarves existed, even half-Melluk had been found in the northern fishing villages. Humans were quite the devious lot and they had the menagerie of half-breeds to prove it.

The truth of the matter was that half-breed humans tended to look more like humans than what they were mixed with. Half-elves blended seamlessly into human populations with nothing but a host of immunities to magical illnesses and slightly pointed ears; half-fae were short and had to dye their naturally brilliantly pigmented hair to match the rest of the humans. Half-orcs had stronger bone structures and broad shoulders; half-dwarves were very short. It wasn’t till you got to the webbed fingers and curved over ears of the half-melluk that it became more obvious since they were usually pale gray to deep brown or a pearly white. No one had ever documented a half-dragon but they were presumably as hard to spot as any other half-breed.  

Gabriel had been nervously rubbing his ears ever since they had begun their trek back up the stone stairs into the castle proper where Jesse had been in surgery with the greatest medical minds Civellan had to offer. In the last few years of serving under the crown Prince, he had been in the presence of a multitude of elves. Everything from diplomatic summits where he was to stand beside Jack and look scary to the odd stow away that was drug before the king; Gabriel had been around hundreds, if not thousands, of other elves and he had never once been recognized.

Until today.

“Move!” Jack snarled, shoving the redheaded elf forward, nearly sending her sprawling across the meticulously polished stone floors of the lower servants quarters. The crown prince was too nervous to be spotted with an elf, even one in a pair of magic-canceling manacles, to go through the usual hallways. Instead, Gabriel was leading him through the labyrinthine back hallways that the serving staff used to navigate the Capitol Building unseen.

When Jesse had gotten to the hospital it had been made quickly apparent that he couldn’t stay for long. The moment anyone got a whiff of one of the princes being in the building, there would be a media frenzy and then the King would no doubt catch wind of the fact that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his duties and Jesse was paying the price.

That wouldn’t do at all. The moment Jack had been informed via telephone that Jesse was going to need to be operated on, he had demanded the younger prince be airlifted in in one of the steam zeppelins to the Palace-esque Capitol that doubled as the living quarters for the Royal family and most of Court. They had a rarely used hospital wing here that had been closed after the queen had died there so Jack ordered it be reopened and that Jesse’s surgery, and subsequent recovery, happen there.

With such short warning, the staff were buzzing around trying to get the wing cleaned all the while members of court had come to show their ‘sympathy’ and vie for favor from the oldest son. Gabe hoped that the busy servants wouldn’t notice them nearly dragging a tall elf down the hall but he was used to the worst case scenario when it came to palace gossip.

They had about 3 hours before the entire building knew what they were doing here, including the King.

Gabriel had paused in front of the row of doors, trying to remember which one would let him into Jesse’s room when the elven woman finally broke her silence. “What exactly d-do you lot exp-pect me to do?” She asked, stuttering through the shivers that wracked her body. Elves weren’t well adjusted to cold temperatures and they pumped cold air into the back hallways to cool the mass of bustling servants constantly moving to and fro. Full of servants, it got very hot, but empty and alone it was frigid. 

“The youngest prince has been injured,” Gabriel spoke, patting down the walls as he looked for the lever that would open it from the inside. These buildings hadn’t really been built with the layman in mind. “It is outside the realm of traditional medicine.”

“So you want me t-to _magic_ him b-better?” She scoffed loudly, throwing her head back in an incredulous laugh that managed to send a chill down his back that had nothing to do with the vent above their heads. “You _are_ d-desperate.”

“He may die.” Jack hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

Gabriel finally found the hidden lever in the stud-work on the unfinished servant side of the wall and slid the door open. To say the doctors and medical staff working inside were startled would be an understatement. It wasn’t often that walls just _opened_ out of the middle of nowhere. They were used to working in a hospital where there were no servants halls or secret doors allowing them to slide in and out.

Jack walked in without regard for the medical professionals that were loudly protesting the intrusion. “Everyone except the head doctor needs to leave.”

“Wh-what?” The tallest of the doctors stammered, the man Jack presumed to be the head doctor in the room, and held up hands soaked in blood. They’d been trying, and ultimately failing, to stop the bleeding.

“Wha’s goin’ on…?” Jesse mumbled, eyes rolling up into his head as beads of cold sweat rolled off his forehead with each weak thrash. The pain was serving to keep him awake but the opioids left him in a state that only barely constituted as lucid. “I can’ feel ma fin’ers…”

“Get. Out.” Jack hissed, pointing to the door. “Except you, Dr. Zeigler. Everyone else needs to leave.”

The doctors made eye contact, whispering among themselves and waffling at the bedside without making a motion to leave. “Now!” Jack roared. He was rapidly losing his patience with these people. “Everyone that isn’t Dr. Ziegler needs to get out!”

When the group of doctors shuffled toward the door quickly, leaving a young petite blonde standing there as the only one in a face mask and her hands covered in the highest quality rubber gloves that could be produced in Civellan at the time, Jack very nearly lost what little composure he had left. The head doctor was walking out and leaving him with this _woman._

“Where are you going!? I said that Dr. Zeigler was to stay!” Jack thundered, all but storming up to her petite frame as the blue eyes regarded him. She didn’t seem very impressed with his display. “Nurse! What is your name? I’ll have you sent to prison for this insubordination.”

“I am Dr. Zeigler.” She spoke without an ounce of fear and Gabriel tried not to laugh. He had to hide it behind a coughing fit. The elf did not afford Jack with such respect as she outright cackled at the turn of events. “Dr. _Angela_ Zeigler, Head of Surgery.”

It wasn’t often that the crown prince found himself so thoroughly embarrassed but today was a new day and fate had _plans._

He huffed through his nose and stomped forward to snatch her badge directly off her chest and bring it up close to his face. Surely enough, she was who she said she was and his pale complexion did little to hide the raging embarrassment. Her mask did little to hide her smirk. “To what do I owe this _pleasure?”_ Angela asked, folding her hands in front of her in such a demure manner it was nearly a taunt.

Jack wasn’t used to being wrong; he surely wasn’t used to being backed so firmly against a proverbial wall that he had very little chance of escaping it with is pride intact. “I have brought someone to aid you in saving my brother.” He waved one of his gloved hands to their elven prisoner, watching her stand tall with her nose tilted up even with the set of chains that locked her hands together. She was arrogant, as were all elves, and he yearned to remind her that she couldn’t enslave him with her magic here. No humans in Civellan would ever be enslaved again; Jack wouldn’t allow it.

Give an elf an inch and they would take your entire town and force them into the fields. The bastards weren’t even people; they were _monsters._

No, that wasn’t going to stand with Jack. It’d been some 200 years since they’d conquered the land and founded Civellan but it was the royal duty to _never forget._ He didn’t plan to forgive either.

“I’m not going to do it.” Their captive said firmly and smirked as the blond head snapped to give her his full attention. The prince didn’t like that answer at all. Gabe swallowed harshly and took a step back. If anything were powerful enough to bring Jack to physical violence, that was it.

“Excuse you?” Jack asked incredulously, advancing back toward the redhead like a predator slowly stalking prey. “I don’t think you heard me correctly. I, the crown _prince,_ am _ordering you_ to use your magic to heal my brother.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” She returned. She was still cold and the purple lips still trembled but she was rapidly warming and finding her voice. “I am not going to do it.”

“You _will_ do it or you will _die.”_ Jack snarled and she only tipped her head up even further. 

“I will not and if you kill me I never will.” The redhead tipped her ginger head up; Jack’s composure slipped ever close to it's breaking point.

He balled his fists at his sides, watching her with a cold fury. She presumed much to think that she could simply _decide_ to disobey the future king like this. He could have her executed, or worse, with a thought. Jack took her by the jaw and held it so tightly that a bruise was already beginning to bloom it he pale skin. “You will do it or you will be persuaded to do so. Stalling only tries my already thin patience.”

The elven woman grinned against his hands, almost daring him to actually follow through with it. She had the wild eyes of a person with nothing else to lose, knowing that she held all the cards with her ability to heal the younger prince. Her lips parted and sickly white teeth showed with gums painted in a deep red where she had bitten her tongue on the fall up the stairs earlier. “Go on then, human. Show me your might. Prove to me that you are not a mere animal who throws a tantrum when you cannot get your way.”

Angela and Gabriel held their breath. The room was quiet save for the heavy breathing of the combatants and the rush of a heartbeat throbbing in Gabe’s ears as he wondered exactly how out of control this was about to get. Jack had never liked elves, particularly when they tried to outsmart him.

This was no exception.

“We’re all just animals.” Jack leered, reaching out in a flash of royal blue and leather glove to grip her by the mangy ginger hair and smash that smarmy face into the marble counter of the nearest surgery table. 

There was a sickening crunch of bone and a scream.

 

Xx

 

It turns out that ‘promptly’ gathering milk didn’t involve going to market at all, it meant going out and milking an actual goat because the dragon couldn’t be bothered to do it himself. Fareeha grumbled to herself as she stomped through the hay past the smaller stalls designed for horses and then past the larger stalls for the farstriders.

“Stupid fucking Dragon. ‘I gotta hold the baby!’ Phht! Make me wash a bucket ‘n find a goat. Asshole.” She muttered to herself, standing at the front gate trying to open it when a pair of large tusks that extended out from one of the stalls came to frame her and the farstrider they belonged to reached out with its furry trunk to try and pluck one of the shining metal hair beads right off her head. “Wha-- Could you… possibly _not?”_ She shoved the pestering trunk away and ignored the rumbling noises coming from the huge male farstrider that was located inside the stall. These enclosures were five times the size what they would need for a horse but the furry creatures were also five times the size of any horse. They were kept around because they could also _lift_ five times more and _travel_ five times further than a horse, albeit slower for the round trip.

Once she’d finally gotten the gate open, Fareeha ducked under the long tusk and headed out into the courtyard. She was further from the city than she had originally thought, though the towering buildings in Stonewall could still be seen in the distance. It was close enough that she could still make out the high platforms designed to load and offload a zeppelin but not so close that she could really make out any detail save for the shimmering river Elsewhere. The town she sat in, which just looking around had to be Bethany or Eichenwalde with its location, was situated on a hill. There was a fantastic view of the sloping grasslands below where the Elsewhere separated forest from plain.

As pretty as the scenery was, Fareeha could still hear the wailing infant inside the barn and she began to look around for a goat. Cow milk wasn’t always good for a baby, horse milk could be but she wasn’t really in the mood to get kicked today, Fareeha didn’t know if the farmer here owned a female farstrider but finding the udders through all that fur would be a pain and the huge feet could trample her in a minute if it decided it wasn’t willing to give. No, thank you.

The dragon had mentioned that he’d seen kids running around and where there were baby goats there would be adult females with milk to spare. Finding the females wasn’t difficult. They were tied up to a post outside and slowly grazing everything green within that circle to the bare dirt--including the bushes nearby. Goats ate everything.

‘Including fingers, if I’m not careful.’ Fareeha mused to herself, grabbing a stool that seemed to be located near to the post the goat with the heaviest looking udders. It was probably there for that reason, since she was the only one that didn’t have a kid tucked tightly to her side. She must be the designated milk goat.

Sure enough, when she put the bucket down and pinned the goat awkwardly between her knees to keep her from moving too much, Fareeha noticed that it seemed more eager than she did to get all that milk out. It was probably hurting her.

Milking takes a bit of work to get it right; _especially_ after pissing off the goat by wiping her udders down to ensure they were clean. At first, she could only get a few dribbles but soon enough the guard managed to actually get some decent squirts. She didn’t want to milk all of it, since once it left the udder it would begin to go bad, but she took enough to at least get the goat to quit crying at her. Something about those eyes with their sideways slitted pupils always put her on edge. Goats looked _weird._

Babies had sensitive systems, the younger they were the more they needed mother’s milk rather than an alternative from another animal, but right now, they didn’t have much of a choice. Fareeha would have rather had time to treat the milk and make sure it was safe, but there was only so much she could do. As she walked back into the barn with the bucket sloshing low with milk, she noticed that the dragon was still bouncing the baby but it seemed to be crying less and less. That made her extremely nervous. How long had this infant gone without food?

“Are you done yet?” He hissed through his teeth, waiting for her to come near and fish a handkerchief from her pocket so that milk could be drawn up into the cloth and then the baby could suck it down. Lucky for them both, one of her hankies had been safely kept clean in the inner pocket of her jacket.

“Yes. I didn’t milk much. Little babies rarely drink more than a few ounces.” Fareeha explained, folding the cloth to produce a point that the infant could suck on and then dipped it into the fresh milk.

“Will he be safe?” It seemed an odd question from a dragon of all creatures to ask about a human baby. She glanced up to try and see the expression on his face but the dragon was all but emotionless. It seemed his inner thoughts were more belied by his motions--gently rubbing the soft black hair on the infant’s head--than any expression of fondness.

“I think so. Most babies can handle goats milk.” Fareeha muttered, gently running her finger over the infant’s cheek to get him to open his mouth and suck on the cloth. At first, the baby didn’t seem to know what to do with it but sure enough he started to desperately suckle on the fabric to sate his hunger.

The pair of them fell into a concentrated silence, the dragon using one of his clawed fingers to rub the baby’s cheek and Fareeha rhythmically dipping the cloth into the milk and bringing it back to the infant’s mouth. Back and forth, like breathing. There was a magic in taking care of a baby that could keep even the most bitter of rivals from fighting if only for a moment.

“What’s your name?” Fareeha asked, breaking the silence as the child started to slow down on eating. He’d drank quite a bit of milk for a baby so little and would need to be burped.

“My name does not matter.” He replied, continuing to pet the soft black hair. The tiny child yawned and it nearly broke her heart.

“It does matter,” She tried again, taking her already dirty hankie from the other pocket and laying it across her shoulder. There wasn’t much thickness to it, so any spit up would likely soak right through, but it was better than nothing. “I want to know your name. I am Fareeha.”

He seemed to consider it as he reluctantly allowed the woman to take the infant and start patting its back. “I am… Katsuya.”

An alias. Everything from his posture to the way he hesitated as he told her was enough to convince Fareeha that it couldn’t possibly be his real name but it was a name and she’d take it. “Katsuya, ah? What does it mean?”

“The symbols are victory and arrow.” ‘Katsuya’ seemed rather uncomfortable with the line of questioning. She was almost completely convinced that it was an alias. Regardless, having a name to put with a face--even a fake name--was better than nothing.

“What will you name the baby?” Fareeha asked, curious though she wasn’t sure why she expected this dragon to name the child. Katsuya was clearly very fond of him but that didn’t make him a suitable caregiver. Dragons were wily and prone to destructive fits of fancy.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of horses snorting around their feed as they ate it from the troughs and the soft clucking of hens just outside before the answer dawned on the dragon and he smiled. “Yasuo. Happy, healthy, son.”

Yasuo was a good name. She heard a burp from the infant, strong and clear against her shoulder and Fareeha brought him back around to look at the baby once more. “Yasuo is a fitting name, I think. For all the trauma he’s gone through, he seems healthy enough.” She handed the baby over to Katsuya when he gestured for him and watched the dragon hold him securely and then rise.

“There is a market in this town, I saw it on my way in and I want you to go and buy Yasuo clothing and any other things he may need. I cannot go, there was an announcement sent out this morning that anyone who sees a man with features like mine to contact the guard.” Katsuya frowned deeply at that, so much so that the goatee on his chin contorted with the shape of it. “I’ll have to change my appearance somehow.”

“Can’t you just transform to look like someone else?” Fareeha asked, standing up and brushing the straw from her knees as she did.

“I cannot. I can make many transformations but they are always the same. This is not my original shape but it _is_ me. I can’t change what I look like when I appear ‘human’ any more than you can change the shape of your nose on a whim.” He sniffed, turning to look away. It seemed that Katsuya had run out of patience to deal with her already and he was beginning to walk away with Yasuo.

“Wait!” Fareeha called, jogging to catch up to the Dragon. “What should I buy it with?”

“The gold you think I haven’t noticed hiding beneath your jacket. I can smell it.” Dragons can _smell_ gold? They never told her that in school! 

Fareeha grumbled and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, turning on her heel to head out of the barn. It only occurred to her halfway to the market that they hadn’t taught her that in school because they didn’t _know_.

 

Xx

 

“Jack, no!”

Jack let go of the red hair, pulling back as if the very color of it had burned him and allowed the slumped body to slide to the floor. The doctor had been the one who screamed, and was still screaming, though through the rushing blood in his ears the prince could not hear it. He stared down at his hands through the cacophony of sound even as the blonde doctor brandished a steel surgery scalpel at the prince and stood over the groaning elf.

“Get out of my operating room!” Dr. Ziegler snarled, curled ever so slightly as if she was prepared to do whatever it took to protect the weak elf currently rolled into a fetal position on the floor. At the very least with the way the woman was cupping her gushing nose and groaning, it did ensure that she wasn’t dead.

“Jack, we need to go.” Gabe’s words were muffled by the sudden fill of cotton in his ears. Everything had spun down to getting this elf to heal his brother and she wouldn’t do it. He had responded with force so fast that even he, himself was a passenger on that ride until it was over. He was left standing there wondering what was even going on anymore.

“I can’t go. She needs to heal my brother.” Jack said with a flat voice, almost as if in a daze as he watched the thickening drops of blood fall to the floor through the elf’s pale fingers. “Do it. Now.” His words lacked the some of the earlier heat but when he stepped forward to once again advance on the elf, Angela raised her scalpel and pulled down the mask once covering her face. The famed Dr. Zeigler, the same one that stood routinely between his father and a cardiac failure, was younger than he’d imagined. Younger and quite a bit more beautiful.

“She will do no such thing for you. You have injured her, maimed her magic so she cannot defend herself--” Angela brandished the scalpel with the fiercest expression her heart-shaped face could muster, which was honestly quite terrifying when one took into account how quickly she could likely dissect a human with that knife, “--she will do no such thing for you and you will leave my operating room!”

The shock of having so totally lost control of himself was starting to wear off of the Crown Prince, starting with the indignation that she would claim part of _his_ palace as her own. _“Your_ operating room?! I am the crown prince! Every inch of this building is mine!”

Gabe pulled on his arm insistently again, trying to stop this before it started. Jack was getting desperate, Jesse was still injured and in bad condition on the table, and harassing the leading mind in the medical field for Civellan was only going to end in tragedy for someone. “Jack, _please._ We need to go--”

He was drowned out by Angela’s angry snarl. “Not _yet_ it isn’t! You’re only the crown prince, you don’t own anything _yet._ Get out of my operating room!”

There was no way that this could end well. Gabriel was watching this entire situation fall apart at the very seams and the only thing he could possibly do to stop it was forcibly remove Jack from the situation so he began to actually pull the Crown Prince out by the waist. “Jack, come on. Please, this isn’t a fight you can win. It’s not even a fight you need to fight--”

“She is ordering me about in my own castle!” Jack squawked and flung a hand at the woman in outrage. He wasn’t about to become his father and let some council bully him about. Jack watched Reinhardt get railroaded and bullied by those he trusted day in and day out, manipulated by the very people meant to protect his interests and Jack wasn’t going to let that happen to him. He’d rather stand by a bad decision than bow to a _sycophant._ “Make the elf heal Jesse! If he keeps bleeding then he is going to die!”

“They can take care of Jesse after we leave, Jack. _Please.”_

“No! How do we know she won't just let him die anyway the moment we walk out of the room?!”

“If you both don't leave right now I’m going to retire. Right here, right now. I’ll get on a boat and leave and you’ll never see me again.” Angela’s tone was even and tight. Both of the men turned to look at her; one in disbelief and the other in an abstract horror.

Dr. Angela Ziegler was a pioneer in her craft and had saved King Reinhardt against all odds when he’d had his first major heart attack. The woman had _coined the phrase!_ As the daughter of wealthy diplomats, she had traveled to far off lands learning the science of societies far and wide while merging it with her own research to produce cutting edge treatments and lifesaving innovation.

If she left, it wouldn’t be a matter of 'if' the King died, it would be _'when'._ Not to mention, Jesse would die on the table, if the blood beginning to pool sluggishly underneath his arm was any indication.

“Jack, we have to go _now.”_ Gabe pulled more insistently, this time physically moving the prince who was biting back the urge to spew the nastiest things he could think of. Who was she to order around the Crown Prince?! “Jack, _now.”_  

“Heal my brother!” Jack raged, albeit significantly more desperate than before, even as Gabe pulled him out of the surgery room and into the nearest empty suite, turning to shut the door behind them and then pin the blond prince to the door with his hands on either side of the other’s head.

Jack looked like a caged wild animal with wide eyes and a desperate hitch in his breath.

“What are you _doing_ right now, Jackie?” Gabe hissed. His eyes were narrowed and flicking between each of Jack’s powder-blue orbs as he waited for some kind of explanation. “You are going to get Jesse killed! This isn’t like you!” Jack just wasn’t the kind of person to make these kind of rash decisions.

“Get off of me!” He growled, shoving back at Gabe’s chest with both hands weakly enough that the guard knew it wasn’t a serious attempt and caught both of his wrists to securely pin them to the door. “You don’t understand! Get off of me!”

“Then explain it to me!” Gabriel begged, bending his knees so he could try and look Jack in the eye as if that would give him some sort of clue as to what was making the man act this way.

“No-- You just-- you don’t understand!”

“Jackie-- ¿ _Cariño, me lo podrías aclarar?”_ He hated the way those blond lashes had begun to clump together as Jack fought his stronger guard. It was for show, the feeling of being able to fight something just to soothe the helplessness that the entire situation had heaped on the oldest prince, and Gabe knew it. “Please, Jackie. Just explain it to me! Tell me why you--”

“I did this to him!” Jack erupted with shout so harsh it caused his voice to break halfway through the cry. “You were _right._ He-- Jesse did this because of _me_ and I tried to fix it and-- Why can’t you understand!? I was too fucking stubborn to send the guard and I got Jesse hurt!”

Gabriel’s heart cracked as he watched the harsh facade that had become second nature to his best friend in the past years after his father’s decline in health had forced Jack into a position of power he wasn’t ready for before he was mature enough to know when to hold his ground and when to bow out. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of handling himself in a fight, it was that he didn’t know when it wasn’t worth it. Jack fought _every_ fight. He fought against elves for no reason but to fight them because they had hurt his ancestors and they _deserved_ it. He fought against headstrong doctors because they dared to suggest they had some authority over what he’d earned kicking in screaming.

In his quest to never bend, Jack was about to break. 

 _“Cariño,”_ Gabe sighed softly, closing his eyes in pain as heard a soft hitch in Jack’s breath. The crown prince hated to be caught crying by anyone, even Gabriel who had literally seen him at his best and worst.

“Don’t,” Jack whispered, harshly and shook his head. “Don’t try to make this better, Gabe.” He finally quit his fighting and accepted the soft kisses over his eyes. Crying made him feel weak. “Who does that elf think she is? Why is that doctor protecting her?”

“Because she doesn’t _know,”_ Gabe whispered, letting go of one of the wrists to gently take the strong jaw and tilt it up so he could press their lips together. The hot tears on Jack’s cheeks absolutely broke his heart. Jack only cried when he was frustrated and out of options.

“That elf was killing humans for sick experiments when we found her--” Jack protested, silenced by another soulful press of lips. “She doesn’t deserve protection.” He was slowly losing the fight. When Gabriel let go of his other wrist, the crown prince wrapped both arms around his guard’s shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean we should become just like her, Jackie…” Gabe murmured softly, turning just long enough to breathe.

“It’s all she understands. It’s all _any_ of those monsters understand.” It was too bad they were in an unused hospital room and not back in Jack’s quarters. The prince was rather prickly about his privacy, and though the teeth nibbling at Gabe’s lower lip held promises, the long years of being at Jack’s side were enough to know this wouldn’t ultimately be anything more than heavy petting.

“The doctor doesn’t know. She just wants to protect everyone.” He felt one of the pale hands that had been playing with his hair grip it tight and pull roughly to force his head back so Jack could attack the jugular fiercely.

“She _shouldn’t_ want to protect _her._ Least of all from me, I’m the prince. It’s my job to protect the country!” Jack snarled, taking a particularly vicious bite that lit a fire where it had no business being.

Gabriel could handle Jack being a bit nippy if it made him feel better. “I know that. I’ve always known that, Jackie.” He murmured, groaning as the prince laid little kitten licks over the bite as an apology for his actions. “All she sees is someone unable to protect themselves and a man hitting a woman. She doesn’t know.”

Jack hummed softly, letting go of Gabe’s hair and burying his face in the man’s shoulder. It was Gabriel’s turn to gently run his fingers through the blond locks in an effort to soothe the already stressed out prince. It had been a long last couple of days. 

“...are you going to be alright, _Cariño?”_

“I don’t know.” Jack muttered, muffled against Gabe’s shoulder as he rest heavily in his arms. “What if Jesse dies?”

“Dr. Ziegler won’t let him die. He may need a prosthetic but he won’t die.” Gabriel was certain of that. As much as she blew smoke, Angela wouldn’t just let an innocent man die on her table because she was angry at his older brother.

The pair of them stood in silence for a while, so long that Gabe wondered if Jack had fallen asleep on his feet again. Jack had a habit of doing that and he hadn’t been sleeping well as of late. Being the guy sleeping beside him, Gabe would know.

“I’m sorry.” Jack finally mumbled, stroking Gabe’s back gently as he turned his head so his face wasn’t smashed against the other’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to lose my composure that way. You know how I feel about elves.”

The guard tried not to wince. Yes, he absolutely knew how Jack felt about elves. The Crown Prince hated them with a burning passion. He was an educated scholar of slave texts from the thousands of years of imprisonment that humans suffered at the hands of the Ephemeral Elves. Jack hated them with a passion that rivaled few others and every new scrap of information he gained on the pale elves of Ulythyr’s treetop cities fueled that hatred. Their captive, and her sick experiments in the heart of Civellan, was just one of the many reasons Jack wanted to wipe elves off the face of the planet.

Some self-hating part of Gabriel agreed with him.

“I know, Jackie. I know.” He said softly, squeezing the prince tightly. There were many reasons why Gabe refused to tell Jack that his father was an elf; this being the most obvious reason of all. Not all elves were like that woman, the dark elves like his father were actually one of the driving factors behind the human’s successful flight from Ulythyr, but that didn’t change the hatred aimed at the race as a whole. He could look Jack in the eye and say with complete honesty that he wasn’t an Ephemeral Elf; that’s all that mattered to Gabe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's got more to him than just asshole, I promise lol
> 
> Where do you think it's going? Leave a comment below :D
> 
> If you wanna come hang with me or UnnecessaryEllipses for author things or just to peek behind the curtain, we have a discord server here: https://discord.gg/FjUhtvY


	4. We didn't realize we were making memories, we just knew we were having fun

Nothing makes someone feel quite so small as walking into an archway designed to more than accommodate Dragons.

Even while it wasn’t even a fraction of the scale in which the towering spires of Stonewall had been built, Fareeha still caught herself staring up at the archway as she passed through the modern, human-sized gateway. From here the nesting doves were little more than fluttering white specks high above her in the gothic vaulted ceiling of the internal passage--complete with more recent murder-holes that had been added once humans took control. Eichenwalde had been nothing more than a haunting reminder of the dragons they’d driven from the land until the growing needs of Stonewall required a faster method of bringing food into the capital than waiting for Farstriders to make it across the vast plains. At that point, a large air-tower had been built so tall in the center of the ancient courtyard that its docks for zeppelins could clear the peaks of the castle and a military installation took up residence in the long abandoned stone behemoth.

That’s all she remembered from military academy, though there were plaques here and there willing to tell travelers all about the history of the quaint farm town. She didn’t bother to read them. It was busier here than she had imagined it would be. Stonewall had a romantic attraction to how ‘uniquely’ bustling it was, but here she was being bumped around by a crowd of people coming and going to barter at the market. Stonewall no longer seemed unique.

The dragons that built Eichenwalde weren’t of the same ilk as ‘Katsuya’, or the Eastern variety, they were a different beast altogether. Fareeha walked past the huge wooden steps that led up to the houses that had been built onto the stone walls surrounding the courtyard and into the large bazaar wrapping around the base of the air-tower. As she walked around the tower, the most famous part of Eichenwalde came into focus--its massive to-scale truesteel statue of the previous owner of this place. The wyrm’s dark metal wings spread out wide in a battle stance and an oxidized bronze addition of a dragon-rider was perched atop. Some blacksmith from the nearby forges had decided to be cute and run pipes through the carved truesteel spines on the dragon’s chest and chin so it appeared as though it were spewing black smoke. Dragons like these were hunted into extinction long before she’d even been thought of.

Eichenwalde was just as interesting as Fareeha had always hoped it would be. It was the largest of the satellite farming communities tasked with feeding the population of Stonewall, because of the pre-existing defensible location and a wealth of nooks and crannies in which to build houses. For each of the rooms that a dragon would have felt cramped in, three floors of spacious human accommodations could be built. Lord Ziegler had to make quite a pretty penny in taxes.

Fareeha couldn’t help but stop here and there to just _stare._ Far above them at one of the uppermost docks, nearly obscured by clouds and birds, was one of the largest air-ships in the fleet. The tower was so tall that the flame at the top was all that was required to guide ships into the dock, unlike towers in smaller towns that needed several guiding lights along the ground, this tower was nearly a tourist destination--and boy, did she look like a tourist.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fareeha repeated for the nth time as she nearly ran into yet another local while staring up at the lower docks where escorts zoomed in and out for refueling. It was hard not to wonder how different her life would have been had she been stationed here rather than the capital with Jesse.

‘Get it together, ‘Reeha,’ Her internal voice called. It sounded suspiciously like Jesse with the way it drawled, and she supposed that as much as she was usually looking after him, he was the one that kept them both on task in cases like this. Fareeha steeled herself and then began to look for a textile shop. She needed to find the necessary bits and baubles for an infant and she needed to do it _quickly._ The faster she could get this done, the faster she could get back to ‘Katsuya’ and retrieve the baby.

The stalls were crowded, full of the sound of bartering and trade that came with being the closest hub to Stonewall that didn’t involve actually going inside of Stonewall. Fareeha marveled at how many half-breeds there were out here. It seemed that even this far from the capital town, within sight range if one was outside the towering ramparts of Eichenwalde castle, the population changed exponentially. Her first peek at the difference was when a woman with bright pink hair walked past, hawking wares proclaimed to be the ‘highest quality faesilk in the land.’

Faesilk was what she wanted, if she could get it. Fareeha knew that the fabric was soft and luxurious--good for delicate infant skin--but also super absorbent and resisted staining. It would be the perfect thing to make diapers out of. “Hey!” Fareeha called out to the woman, sliding past a few humans considering woven baskets and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Would you like to purchase some of my faesilk--guaranteed to feel like water against your skin!” The merchant smiled widely, thrusting the basket of beautiful fabrics into her face. Fareeha nodded, looking through the vibrant purples and blues inside the basket and stroking her fingers over a golden design or two.

“I’m looking to buy clothes for a newborn. I need… everything. Where is your shop?” Fareeha would much rather buy the kind of bulk that she needed in a store setting rather than right out in the middle of the street. Here, the merchant had an advantage whereas inside the safety of a store Fareeha would have the ability to talk them down without needing to shout over everyone else.

The merchant, likely sensing that Fareeha had a lot of money to spend on this, guided her through the crowd onto the side closest to Castle Eichenwalde to a long row of weaving and textiles shops. Whoever ran the market had done a good job of grouping like-merchants together. A simple inspection was enough to know that this was the only one selling faesilk, though in order to make faesilk, one had to have a fae to spin it.

“Mama!” The merchant from before called, looking around until she located a very petite woman spinning silk in the back. The wig was haphazard and her skin-paints were beginning to slide in the hot weather of Civellan’s summer, but this was a fae disguised as a human… and none of the guards seemed to care. Everything outside of Stonewall was different. “This woman wants to buy diapers. Do we have any made?”

“I’m sure I do…” Faesilk diapers were a staple in Medrawt, or so Fareeha understood from the way her mother had spoken about them, so it would make sense that anyone who could provide such a valuable resource would have the guards looking the other way. “Ah yes, here.”

The weaver pulled a basket full of simple--or as simple as faesilk ever was with its shimmering fabric and innate golden designs--diapers that had been folded into small squares and placed inside.  
  
“I’ll need at least 10.” She’d have to wash them and dry them so she needed enough to have them dry. “How long does it take faesilk to dry?”

That was the caveat of the miraculous fabric. It soaked up so much water that it took _ages_ to dry. “Two days each once washed.” The elderly fae explained and Fareeha picked up another dozen diapers, just in case.

The blankets and other things that were needed were easily located around the shop, since baby clothes didn’t need to fit exactly, and a hard deal was struck but at the end of it all, Fareeha walked out of the store with a blanket filled up with the highest quality baby clothes one could buy… and a single gold coin. So much for purchasing other things.

Fareeha had started to try and carry the bundle of haphazardly wrapped clothing back toward the market to look for a basket or something to carry the baby and the clothes for the long walk back to Stonewall when she was nearly knocked down by someone moving quickly from the market back toward the billowing forges nearby.

“Ohmigosh! I’m so sorry, are you ok?” A female voice asked as Fareeha felt strong hands grasp her by both upper arms and helped her regain her balance. The voice sounded familiar and when she turned around, she realized why… It was her childhood best friend.

“Brigitte!” Fareeha exclaimed, grinning widely. She would have thrown herself at the filthy blacksmith, had she not been carrying so much linen in her hands. “What are you doing here? I thought you joined the guards?”

“I did!” Brigitte chirped, offering to take the linen from her friend but then sheepishly pulled her hands away. She was covered in soot and grease from working, so it was better that she didn’t help right now. “I was stationed out here in Eichenwalde… it’s a long story. Come to my forge and I’ll tell you.”

“I can’t right now,” Fareeha readjusted the cloth in her hands and tried not to lose any of the corners that would make the makeshift bag drop its contents. “I need to find a baby carrier or something. I wasn’t really prepared for this and I’ve got to find something that will work for under a gold.”

Brigitte blinked a few times, clearly taken aback as Fareeha had been the last person in their guard class that she’d expect to drop out for a family, but nodded. “I can make you one--I’ll even do it for free! Come with me, please? I haven’t seen you in an _age.”_

Well, that was an offer that Fareeha couldn’t afford to pass up.

“Fine,” She chuckled and ran a hand through her sweat-slicked hair, with a glance up at the position of the sun, before starting to walk closer to the dirty smith.

“Yes! I’m so excited! We have to talk about _everything--”_ Brigitte exclaimed, getting behind her friend miraculously in the crowded marketplace and taking her by the shoulders so the large bundle of cloth would act as a bumper while they shoved their way up the wooden staircase toward the Castle. This fortress was built to house un-transformed Dragons so modifications to the structure was unavoidable. Each of the giant steps included shops that could be accessed from the wooden human-sized steps beside.

All her life, Fareeha had heard propaganda about how Stonewall was the greatest city in the union, and yet this small farming town could create a marvel like this out of a ruin. “I thought you were a guard?” She called over her shoulder, allowing Brigitte to guide her up the stairs toward the castle doors.

“I was!” Brigitte chirped, shrugging in a way that was just visible over Fareeha’s shoulder. “I’m also a _Lindholm.”_ The woman laughed easily, pushing Fareeha insistently--somuchso that she tripped on the way up and fell forward.

Fareeha yelped, unable to reach out and catch herself on the bustling stairs as she was reluctant to give up the cloth for swaddling the baby… but the fall never came. She opened her eyes, staring up at the beautiful amber eyes and a grinning filthy face. Brigitte had caught her and was currently giggling at her helplessness. “You’ve gotten soft, ‘Reeha.” She laughed, leaning down and kissing her cheek for the joy that came with getting soot all over her friend’s face.

“No-- Stop that-- Let me up--” The guard fussed, hiding in the cloth and letting it wick the sweat away while trying not to let Brigitte see her burning flush.

“You should see yourself!” Brigitte laughed, helping her back up onto her feet and brushed invisible debris off Fareeha’s shoulders before once again urging her up the stairs. “I got dirt on you.” She didn’t need to turn around in order to hear the Cheshire Cat tone in Brigitte’s voice.

“Don’t remind me.” Fareeha huffed, finally clearing the last of the stairs and started to walk beside her impromptu guide rather than in front of her through the gargantuan pair of doors that sat in the same crumpled and collapsed state they did when her great-great-great-grandfather had taken this keep for the humans. Something about the way they were enchanted kept the splintered wood from rotting away.

“Why? Sometimes you need to be reminded that you can’t be perfect all the time.” Brigitte smiled warmly, walking with Fareeha in toward the green courtyard in the center of the main throne room. The beauty of King Balderich the First’s conquest of Civellan was the taking of this stronghold. He’d sent humans to climb onto the roof and collapse the tons of stone down on the dragons below leaving the space that would eventually grow into this Eden.

Balderich the First died for his victory, but it had undeniably turned the tide of battle. After that it was as if the dragons were demoralized; humans swept virtually undisputed across the vast plains of what would become Civellan and drove out any dragons that would leave and killed all others.

Fareeha huffed, following Brigitte up _yet another_ set of stairs to where the second floor of the Dragon’s castle would have been; two floors for a wyrm was the 6th floor for a human and she was ready to collapse into the floor by the time they made it to the top of the stairs. No wonder Brigitte was in such good shape! “You know, you never did answer my question… How did you go from being a guard to being… this?”

“Well, I like to think I'm still a guard, just not in the same way as before!” Brigitte even gestured to a set of armor on an armor stand nearby to a small spot-forge that was fed by the huge smithy below them… a smithy that warmed this shop up to an unbearable level. Brigitte laughed as Fareeha finally gave up and just dumped her purchases on the floor before starting to peel off clothes to escape some of the wall of _hot_ they'd walked into.

“Were you always this hard to get information from?” Fareeha only half joked as she sat down heavily on a wooden chair that had seen better days.

“Usually,” Brigitte teased, puffing her bangs out of her eyes as she too began to strip out of the thick clothing she wore outside down into nothing but a simple chest wrap, completely immodest shorts that didn’t come anywhere near the knee and matching oversized gloves and boots. “What happened was, I got stationed here and I noticed things were broken. This place is full of merchants and craftsmen… but there weren’t any handymen.”

For the first time, as Brigitte began to pull a small falcon out from under a tarp and pull it up on a series of pulleys attached to the rafters of the room, Fareeha could see the bits of broken scrap. Everything from old bicycles that needed to be bent back into shape after a rough encounter with a wooly rhino in the valley below to a pot that had simply been used till the bottom fell out, the room was full of odds and ends that just needed to be patched back together and made whole again.

“So, at first I just fixed things here and there for the older women who couldn’t afford to go into town,” Brigitte shrugged, pulling on the levers to open the micro-forge and start heating a bar of steel inside so it could be bent into the missing strut now revealed on the Falcon once it was raised above eye level. “Then, it got around that I was the Minister of Engineering’s daughter and… well, the rest is just history.”

“Ah, I see.” Fareeha chuckled. Famous fathers were a plague on them both. Fareeha had gone into the guard of her own volition and had been elevated to the highest post a woman could hold--personal guard to the Prince--due to her father’s reputation, more than his actual meddling… and the same had happened to Brigitte. When they had been children, they’d both had aspirations of going as far from Stonewall as they could possibly go, and still be able to come back regularly to visit their family, but it seemed only one of them had actually managed to make good on it. Eichenwalde was far enough that it would be hard to just pop in, but close enough that a visit could easily be made. “So, what… exactly are you fixing here?”

“Mostly I just fix the escorts,” Brigitte explained, gesturing to the Imperial class Falcon currently aloft in her shop. “But sometimes I build from the composite parts I’ve got laying around.”

“You… build Buzzards?” Fareeha asked, incredulous and raising an eyebrow. Buzzards were the tool of choice for raiders looking to make a score on one of the transport ships, but their method for remaining aloft was a mystery. The vessels were usually held together with little more than bubblegum and wishful thinking, so to imagine a proud Lindholm making one was… odd.

“They’re _not_ Buzzards… they’re just not standard edition either.” She explained with an easy shrug, spinning on her rubber heels until she located the pile of things she could pull parts from in the corner and strode over dig through it. “Most people don’t know a Lindholm Aplomado from a Saker or a Peregrine. They’re all just Falcons, as far as they’re concerned. I take what works from the ones that don’t and strap them together into something that’ll fly… give it another coat of paint and you’ll never know it wasn’t standard edition.” The woman grinned as cheesily as she ever had, “They call it a Brigitte Special.”

“Of course they do.” Fareeha laughed, rubbing her face. It seemed that, despite obviously becoming a grown woman and finding her calling here in Eichenwalde, Brigitte hadn’t changed in any of the ways that mattered. “As many lessons as you got from my father, I would have thought you’d raised to the ranks of General by now.”

That had always been a sore spot between the two friends. Reinhardt loved Fareeha dearly, but he wanted to constantly put her in fancy dresses and make her wear heels. Brigitte, his good friend Torbjörn’s daughter, had been the one that was allowed to wear armor and be whatever she wanted to be. It might been the most decisive factor in them going their separate ways.

“I didn’t want that, Fareeha…” Brigitte stood from her digging and turned around, holding a pair of large wheels designed for the landing gear on a small Falcon to her chest and smearing their dirt all over her porcelain skin. “You wanted to be a General, and you would have been a wonderful one--still could--but I just wanted to help people.”

Of course she just wanted to help people, Brigitte had always just wanted to help people. Fareeha felt ridiculous for even bringing it up now and hid her face in one hand while looking away. The handywoman didn't exactly seem keen to break the silence either.

As Brigitte moved toward her work, Fareeha shuffled around to get comfortable and rub her fingers together nervously. "If it's all the same to you, I think you've always been the more qualified to be a General _because_ you only ever wanted to help people." She whispered in a barely audible tone, causing the other woman to turn and regard her for a moment.

In an instant, the sunny smile had returned and Brigitte was her beautiful, charming self again. "Thank you," She replied, because she knew how hard must have been for Fareeha to admit that after all these years.

Fareeha shyly smiled back.

 

Xx

 

When Jack had left in his storm of anger and promised violence, the surgery room had waited on bated breath to know if the Prince would return again. Both women, human and elf, knew that no amount of threats could truly contain Jack if he wanted to seriously hurt them. In Angela's case, Jack could seize her father's lands and leave the family penniless if he so chose as the Lord Zeigler's habit of turning a blind eye to half-breeds living within the towering walls of Eichenwalde was the worst kept secret in the Union.

"You didn't need to do that for me," Moira spoke as she pulled herself off the floor and wiped the blood from her upper lip, "though I do greatly appreciate your intervention."

"I couldn't allow him to hurt you," Angela spoke, starting to regain her wits enough to be proactive. The doctor took a nearby sitting chair and braced it against the door knob that led into the Medical room so that if the Crown Prince were to try and get back inside, he wouldn't be able to open the door.

“Why?” Moira asked, her mismatched eyes watching Angela without a hint of sarcasm. She was genuinely curious as to what would make a human woman try to protect _her._

“Because--” Angela stopped herself as another moan of pain sounded from the youngest prince. She had to help Jesse… it wasn’t his fault that Jack was that way. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I assure you, I deserve that and more.” Moira said easily, holding up her cuffs so that the chains jingled between her hands and the runes glowed in dangerous reminder that it could and _would_ hurt her if she tried anything. “If you unlock my cuffs, I will heal the prince.”

“No,” Angela shook her head.

“Why?” Moira snapped, already losing her patience for these humans and their petty fear of magic. Yes, she could hurt them, but until just now, Moira had no reason to hurt this doctor.

“Well, first of all--I don’t know you and I don’t know your motivations,” Angela stated as she began to get scrubbed in again and reapply her mask. “Secondly, I don’t have a key.” She turned and winked at Moira, stopping the woman dead in her tracks.

Moira could feel the heat bleeding across her freckled cheeks but she was unable to stop the resulting blush. Of _course._ How could she have been so foolish? Jack would have had the key. Moira had lived in a culture of magic for so long that the idea of only one person being able to open something as mundane as handcuffs was foreign to her.

“However,” Angela said as she came back around with her gloves on and hands tilted up to prevent any water from rolling down onto her clean workspace, “I do find myself in need of an assistant since all of mine were sent away.”

“I know nothing of human medicine,” Moira blurted out suddenly, eyes wide as she was thrust into a realm so far outside of what she was comfortable with that even she managed to lose her composure, “I could not be of any help.”

“That’s defeatist,” Angela snickered, gesturing to the sink. “Get as much of that chain up and over your neck as possible so you’re not dragging it over my clean area and scrub your hands and cuffs. Up to the elbows. Welcome to Ortho 101, I’ll be your teacher.”

Moira hadn’t been this excited since she’d been accepted into the Ulythyr School of Higher Enchantment a century or so prior.

 

xx

 

“How do you do that?” Fareeha called up to Brigitte who was currently perched over a Falcon high in the air while she waited for a runner to return with a large wicker basket. “I couldn’t even-- Aren’t you afraid of heights?”

“No… Since when are _you_ afraid of heights?” Brigitte laughed, shaking her head as she leaned back to grab a wrench from the bag on the wooden strut behind her and continue on with the calibration of the wing foils. “As I recall, you were the kid who was convinced she could fly when we were young.”

“When I learned that I could _not_ fly and ended up in a hospital bed for 6 weeks.” Fareeha drawled in a flat tone, not at all enjoying the way Brigitte laughed from on high at her discomfort. “How did you forget that? You were _there!”_

“I do remember that!” Brigitte laughed, leaning back on the wooden beam and stared up at the sky peeking through the portion of collapsed roof above her workshop. “I recall you were very confident until your mother caught you mid-launch. I thought you were gonna pull it off but then she showed up and _boom._ Dropped like a rock.” The handywoman tilted her head to grin over the side of the scaffolding, “Guess you’ll never be a kite-scout.”

Fareeha scoffed as she tried to imagine herself maneuvering a kite. The small, one-man crafts were little more than a set of wings and weakly powered propeller system--they couldn’t even lift themselves off the ground! Kite-scouts, and their close cousin the kite-courier, had to find a high tree or a cliff to take a leap of faith off to produce enough momentum to fly. Dozens of would be kite-scouts died every year from taking the leap of faith and falling out of the sky. The problem with scouts is they had to be both thin and petite in nature to keep weight down, but strong enough to fight the wind and keep the wings deployed.

She was both too tall and too terrified.

“I guess not.” Fareeha sniffed, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of it all. “Are you just about finished with all this? I need to return to the baby.”

“Speaking of the baby,” Brigitte chuckled and threw her leg back over in a way that made Fareeha’s heart just about stop as she fell, only to catch herself on scaffolding below and climb down as if it was no big deal. “Who’s the kid staying with while you’re here?”

“Katsuya.” Fareeha said, waving her hand. “It’s a long story and I really don’t want to go into too much depth… he’s a dragon and he’s very protective of Yasuo so I’m stuck out here running for things the baby needs.”

“A… Dragon?” Brigitte stopped halfway through the motion of grabbing a tool from the wall so that she could retrofit an existing cart that had been given to her into something to transport an infant from here back to Stonewall. “I-- you know what? I don’t care. As long as he’s good to you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I don’t really think it matters if he’s good to me or not--” Fareeha shrugged, once again causing Brigitte to pause in the middle of prying up the parts of the cart that would be in the way for a traveling bassinet.

“Well _I_ do!” The youngest of the Lindholm children had never been one to move to anger so Fareeha wasn’t prepared for the stormy expression that passed over her face. “You shouldn’t put up with someone who isn’t good to you. I don’t care if there is a baby involved. Take the kid and leave.”

“That’s the plan.” Fareeha gestured at the cart that her friend was pulling apart with more power than strictly necessary. “I’m going to demonstrate that I’m more than capable of taking care of Yasuo and then go home.”

“Then I’d better make you a really nice cart, huh?” Brigitte huffed, rubbing the back of her large glove against her forehead and leaving a dark line of soot on the freckled skin. “It’ll be the best baby cart you could ask for, ‘Reeha, I promise.”

“As long as it doesn’t sprout wings and fly, it’s better than my alternative means of transportation.” She snorted as she turned to the only window in the place and leaned out of it to try and get some fresh air inside the oven of a workshop.

“If you give me enough time, I could make it fly!” Brig laughed, grabbing a large hammer and taking a swing at the loosened boards as if it were made just for that purpose.

“I’d best head out of here quickly then.” Fareeha teased, calling over her shoulder as the cool air rising off the ancient moat blew in her face.

 

Xx

 

Lena had summoned him to his father’s chambers and Jack was absolutely _petrified._ When the messenger had arrived, rather than her usual jovial smile and windswept bangs she was a ball of nerves and anxious energy. Reinhardt was a jovial king and as such, finding him in any mood other than cheerful was uncommon but this was something akin to a black rage. As Jack slid in, slowly shutting the door behind himself as quietly as possible, he stared onto the scene in apprehension.

Ana, the nanny to both he and his younger brother, was standing close beside the king and they both looked up with stormy expressions when Jack’s presence was announced by Lena with a forced cheerfulness.

“A-Alright then luvs,” Lena laughed awkwardly, stepping backward toward the door while jerking a thumb in the same direction, “I think I'll be off then. Toodles!” With that, she turned tail and left.

Ana had always been something of an enigma to the court--even to Jack himself--as she was possibly the last person one might expect for a nanny to the throne. Not only had she been a soldier, she was a well known refugee from Medrawt as the lesser-mage rebellion against the highborne nobility had killed her parents. As someone who had been born without magic, Ana had instead been ousted to Civellan under the clear understanding that should she ever return to Medrawt, she would be killed.

Needless to say, the idea that a refugee turned mercenary would make a good mother figure for the pair of princes was met with some scrutiny. Fareeha’s birth had caused another riot. Most of the members of the Senate believed that she held entirely too much sway over the king. Jack believed that too, especially when things like this happened. Ana leaned up to the towering king and murmured something to him while looking at Jack with her good eye and then vanished behind a tapestry into a servant’s door.

Jack had expected any number of things, yelling or screaming or even a lecture of disapproval. He had girded his loins for the inevitable ass-chewing he knew that he more than deserved for failing to do his due diligence which ended with Jesse seriously injured. Hell, he had even prepared for the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’, speech. What he hadn’t prepared for was silence. Reinhardt remained completely silent while Ana slipped out of the room and turned slowly to regard his oldest son.

The king reached forward with his large hand and took Jack’s left where the beautiful signet of Crown Prince lay on his finger. He regarded it with an expression of disgust and sadness.

“Father, I--” Jack began futilely, trying to think of any words that might excuse his behavior but the king only shook his head. The silence drug on between them and for a moment, he wondered if Reinhardt might take the ring and rescind his birthright. When the king finally spoke, it was soft and understated. Usually Reinhardt was loud and booming but this was whispered just above barely audible so Jack had to strain up to hear it.

“I have begun to wonder,” His father murmured, speaking into the blond hair just above Jack’s ear, “If what transpired today was truly an accident.”

..and it all made sense. Jack had spies all over the kingdom running information back to him as he spread his influence to make his transition to king easier once Reinhardt was either too sick to fulfill his duties or passed away due to old age, and they’d all reported back in the same manner. While the nobility of Civellan all believed that Jack was a superior statesman and politician to his brother, as well as being a crack strategist and wise beyond his years, he was also cunning and ruthless. The normal people of the country only saw the prince that Jack wanted them to see but the others in power recognized his thirst for uncontested power. He’d always believed that his father knew better than to believe he was so wholly detestable to remove his siblings to assure his ascension but, it seemed, that was not the case.

It shocked him to his core. “Father, I did _not_ have anything to do with this. You have to believe me. I believed it to be nothing more than a story, I didn’t--”

“Don’t lie to me,” Reinhardt sighed heavily, sitting in the armchair nearest to his fireplace that still seemed to be a throne so long as the king lounged on it. “You’ve lied plenty enough today, Jack. Your mother would be appalled.”

“Don’t bring her into this.” The prince snarled before he could help it. He was the only one of the two princes to remember the People’s Queen and to have her memory tarnished like that was an offense he wouldn’t suffer. “I had nothing to do with what happened yesterday. I believed it to be false, like every other cry of ‘Dragon’ before it. Don’t lay this at my feet.”

It had already been at his feet for far too long and the voices that whispered in his ear only rose now to a fever pitch of shame. Even his own father had turned against him.

Reinhardt rubbed his chest, turning away to stare into the crackling logs settled inside of the hearth. “I only remind you where it lies; you put it there yourself.”

This must have been Ana. Only she could have poisoned his father’s heart against him like this. Jack had hated her from the very start and his hatred only festered with each passing moment that Reinhardt looked away from his crown prince. “You think I don’t know that? Father, really? I know better than anyone else that what happened today was my fault but I did not orchestrate any of this. I don’t know where the bastard is and I didn’t cause Jesse to get injured.”

The silence was deafening and the lack of response from Reinhardt was enough to send a gnawing dread up Jack’s throat to clench around his windpipe and _squeeze._ Why was his father so stoic? Barely even an uptick in breathing, Rein just seemed oblivious to the state of distress that this line of questioning had thrown Jack into. “I didn’t, I swear, Father.”  
  
The voices in his ear whispered that now he had lied, no one would ever believe him again. Jack shushed them away like all the others before them.

“I wonder,” Reinhardt wheezed, bunching the fabric of his nightshirt into a ball in his hand and held on tight, “How quickly Stonewall will burn once you are king.”

“Go to Hell, old man,” Jack snapped, turning on his heel and stormed for the door. He wasn’t about to suffer this abuse, even from his father.

As the door shut, Reinhardt grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, “I will wait for you there, my son.”

 

Xx

When Ana walked into the room where Jesse was, she didn’t know what to expect. He had been up and down, touch and go the last few hours; she was more afraid of walking into that room than she had been in a long time--which was impressive for a mercenary of her caliber.

She slowly pushed the door open, peering inside with her good eye to see a tall elven woman leaning over the prince and adjusting a cool towel over his forehead. Ephemeral elves were not common in these parts; often times they were killed on sight but the Doctor and elven woman seemed to be working decently in tandem to get Jesse pulled up into a sitting position and help him comfortably sit on the hospital bed once the head had been elevated. It was clear that they hadn’t worked together for long, both flustering whenever they nearly ran into each other, but it didn’t seem to be a strained relationship.  
  
Well, save for the pair of chains still connecting the elf’s hands to the matching set on her ankles. That was straining a lot of things in the room every time Dr. Zeigler accidentally stepped on the chain dragging from the ankle set and reminded them both that the elf was a prisoner.

Ana cleared her throat, slowly walking into the room and shutting the door behind herself. Blonde and ginger heads turned, a pair of blue and mismatched eyes both landing on her. Dr. Ziegler pulled herself up into a respectful and proud stance while the elven woman seemed to do the same although the chains pulled her into more of a hunch that seemed like a fetal curl than a confident pose. “Your grace, what can I do for you?” The doctor asked her, and Ana didn’t miss the way Angela moved in front of the elf.

It seemed Ana’s reputation preceded her. She was well known for hunting elves during the last great trifle between Medrawt and Ulythyr and they were both now worried about her intentions.  
  
“Calm yourselves, children.” She chuckled, waving a hand and walking past them both even as the elf Angela called Moira bristled. “I am here to see him… and lucky for you both, I have bad vision. Elven helper? What elven helper?”

Ana was revered as one of the sharpest shooters of all time, she had eagle eyes and everyone knew it but Angela visibly deflated as she realized she wouldn’t need to fight another noble over her new-found friend. As she approached the prince, who’d leaned his head back heavily against the bed behind him with his mouth ajar and tried to get his bearings, Ana slowed her steps so she didn’t accidentally scare him.

Jesse was pale, likely due to the blood that the elven woman was currently still mopping off the ground that had drained him of his color, and he seemed disoriented. Ana knew little of medicine so she could only guess that the loss of blood might also cause him to lose his grips. “Habbibi?” She called softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently reaching out to smooth back the dark chestnut hair sticking to his beard where the cloth had moistened it.

He didn’t rouse at first. Even as Ana’s lips twisted into a deep-set frown, the prince remained in his uneasy sleep. “Habbibi?” She called once more, taking the cloth off and waving it through the air to cool it off and then gently pressing it to his forehead.

His eyes finally fluttered open, amber colored behind dark lashes that Ana wondered where they’d come from--both of his parents had had fair hair. His mother’s tawny brown hair was the closest to his rich colored tresses but they were nothing like this. Sometimes she entertained the idea that in another life he could have been hers.

“Hey Momma…” Jesse’s voice rasped, rough from screaming and sleeping with his mouth wide open.

Ana smiled, putting the cloth down and pressed her hand to his cheek. This was her son and no one could say otherwise, not so long as she was alive to dispute it. “Hello little one…”

“Momma, I feel like I got hit by a runaway farstrider.” He groaned, unknowingly echoing his sister.

“Mm.. You will for a while, I’m certain. You took quite a fall.” Ana chuckled, pinching the cheek between her fingers even as he grinned weakly. “You scared me to death!” It was a tease and they both knew it.

“You always did tell me that bike was gonna get me hurt.” Jesse mused, closing his eyes and resting there so deeply that Ana thought he might have fallen back asleep.

“I prepared a medicine for him,” The elf spoke from the bedside. Ana startled slightly as she had been so wrapped up in Jesse’s wellbeing that she hadn’t realized the elf was standing there. “It’s helping him replenish his blood but it will make him very tired.”

Ana made a noise of acknowledgement but her mind was very far away. Knowing that Jesse was going to be fine and in the hands of two capable healers had brought her back to the fact that Fareeha was still missing and likely captured by a dragon for nefarious reasons. She didn’t want to think about it too much but it was unavoidable.

“Momma, where’s sissy?” Jesse mumbled through the medicine fog, eyes opening briefly just to roll back into his head. He hadn’t called Fareeha ‘sissy’ since he was very small.

“I don’t know, habbibi. I don’t know.” Ana sighed, accepting the large hand that clumsily came up to cup her cheek. She held that hand tenderly in both of her own and turned to kiss the palm. He was so strong, always had been. Strong as an ox and stubborn as a mule.

“I’ll find her, Momma.” He mumbled, trying to muster the strength to get moving out of the bed even as Doctor Ziegler rushed to the side and fought to keep his legs in the bed. That stubborn streak that spread through the entire royal family like wildfire had burned Jesse so thoroughly that his flame might never go out. It was the light that Ana usually clung to when the king’s health became too poor and they feared the worst.. but now it threatened to consume him from the inside out. “Lemme… go. ‘M gonna find sissy.”

“You can’t! You are injured!” Angela’s voice rose in alarm while the redhead began to clink vials together and mix tinctures to create a potion. The smell of lavender and sulphur settled over as the mix turned white and Ana knew that concoction all too well.

“I gotta go find mah sister--” Jesse growled with a bit more clarity, pulling against Ana who now had him by the shoulders.

“No, Habibti. You need to stay here and rest. I will find her. Don’t worry.” Ana spoke firmly, holding him back. Jesse’s pride was nearly as powerful as his older brother’s and he had always been the kind to take responsibility for Fareeha even as she had become a grown woman capable of taking herself. Fareeha hated it whenever there were people around to see, but Ana knew her daughter would have no doubt that her brother would come for her.

Just not this day.

  
“Lemme go, Momma. I’mma get Sissy..” Jesse nearly whined as Moira’s form loomed over. The elf took Jesse by the nose while Angela took his jaw and they poured the mixture down his throat. It only took a few moments for it to take effect, despite him spitting curses at them for it. The act of holding him down was difficult, even with the three of them and his injuries. Jesse had always been stronger than his upbringing would suggest; Ana attributed it to the fact that the royal family had come to this land as farmers with manual labor in their blood.

“That’ll keep him down a few hours but we’ll need to dose him again after.” Moira murmured as she watched his eyes close. She almost seemed as if she didn't quite believe her own words. “He isn’t fit to be moving around.”

“I understand,” Ana sighed heavily, pushing herself back onto her feet. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him, but there was work to be done. Shrike had never hunted Dragon before but it seemed like an interesting challenge. “Now that he is seen to… I need to find my daughter. I trust that you both will take good care of him?”

The blonde and redhead bobbed their heads in unison. Ana smiled through her pain, retrieving a something shiny from her pocket and tossed it at the doctor who caught it with ease. “You know what to do.”

“Well that was less painful than I had expected,” Moira mused airly as she returned to the bedside to once again rinse out the cloth on Jesse’s forehead and replace it over the perspiring brow.

“I expected her to be more... more…” The doctor didn't have the word to quite describe what she had expected.

“Antagonistic? Murderous? ...unattractive?” Moira suggested, turning to smirk at the human woman over her shoulder. That smirk grew into a grin when the doctor blushed a vibrant red and looked away with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes-- _no!_ I--” Angela stammered and then huffed at the melodic laugh Moira let out.

“You are cute when you flush, doctor. It is only a shame the woman couldn't have let me free of these chains.” Moira mused and sat the bowl beside the bed before drying her hands on the legs of her pants.

“I suppose she doesn’t trust you to control your magic.” Angela chewed her bottom lip and watched the door where the Lady Consort had closed it behind herself when she left.

“It is a shame. I could be a healer like you have never seen if they would let me out. I suppose they don't know me like you do.” Moira stood and winced as her best efforts at stretching only served to pull the shackles on her already sore wrists.

“A shame…” Angela murmured, distracted as she watched the door. Moira inspected her for a moment before walking back to the brewing stand to work on more poultice for the prince.

Angela looked over her shoulder in a brief glance and then back at the door before finally opening her palm and looking at the object Ana had thrown at her. It was a key with a rune set into the top; a handcuff key. The doctor looked back at Moira and opened her mouth… and then thought better of it. The key was deposited into her pocket; it might be better to keep the elf on a tight leash.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Lorraine,
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm more impressed or terrified that you found me on Etsy but thanks for the swift kick in the ass. I needed it.


	5. The first thought is what you have been conditioned to think, the second thought makes you who you are

Her father had always told her to go with what her heart told her, to ignore all others go with her gut. Elias Ziegler had always been one of the most lenient of Lords and his lands were often considered to be a safe haven for creatures that would otherwise be hunted and killed in Civellan. For as many years as she had traveled to get her education in medicine and the numerous people she’d met along the way that helped her to become a better doctor, Angela had thought that she was immune to those insidious whispers that the culture of hatred hissed into her ears.

Apparently not.

She shoved her hand back into her pocket as fast as she could, gripping the handcuff key tightly in her fist to regard the scene in front of her. Their prince was laying on the bed as Moira worked her poultice into the rifts of skin that no longer included bone shards. At first, when Moira had insisted they didn’t stitch him up, Angela had been skeptical but she had heard about the magical healing properties that elves could infuse ordinary herbs with when they treated them the correct way.

Watching Moira stub her toe on purpose to summon up tears so she could blink them down into an ordinary bundle of thyme leaves was… interesting but there she was brushing it over the open wound. As the tears touched his skin, a reaction of magic sprung up. It seemed that even without being able to overtly cast, anyone as crafty and intelligent as Moira could still perform their basest of functions.

They’d been healers, once upon a time. Elves used to be _healers,_ so much so that the very _tears_ they shed in sorrow or pain could be used to stitch together flesh… Oh, how far they had fallen from their once noble beginnings that they were fractured down the center on basis of skin color and using that incredible knowledge to dissect other species.

Angela shook her head, that wasn’t Moira. Moira was sitting here risking her life to heal the younger brother of a man who had imprisoned and neglected her for no reason other than the fact that he needed to be healed. A lump sprung up into her throat as she regarded the handcuff key once more. It wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly; if Moira wasn’t to be trusted then there was a chance that this could go horribly wrong.

It was a risk that Angela was willing to take. She wasn’t like the other humans here; she wasn’t afraid of her shadow and willing to keep someone who had done her no wrong a hostage just for the simple matter of what they _could_ do.

“Moira…” She called, swallowing some. This needed to be done quickly, since the knockout potion that Moira had given Jesse was ‘pitifully weak without magic’. Her words, not Angela’s. When the woman had asked Angela to bring her dandelion--just the roots--along with a collection of white flowers that grew in a nearby garden, she'd been hesitant. The resulting concoction had knocked the prince out in a terrifying hurry.

“Yes?” The woman looked up and was pinching her skin harshly and clearly thinking of dead puppies--or whatever got the tear response from an elf--as she had run out of tears to heal his wound with.

“I… Come here, Moira.” Angela swallowed and kept her hand closed tightly around the key in her hand. She was still terribly unsure about how wise her next course of action was but that didn’t matter. Moira deserved to be free.

“Why? I assure you I can answer any question you have from here. I must work, the potion will wear off quickly.” Moira insisted, peeling off the gloves. In the last few hours of working with her, Moira had applauded Angela’s use of gloves and her sanitation standards, devolving into a long discussion on the elven research into pathogens and infections caused by working without them. It was fascinating and Angela mourned even more that she hadn’t been able to study with the elves in her earlier years. How much else could she have learned?

“It’s important,” Angela insisted. With her mind made up about the whole thing, the doctor wasn’t going to let any petty disagreements about magic come between Moira and her freedom any longer.

The elf sighed some but her lips tilted up into a small smile as she walked closer to Angela and peered down over her nose.

Angela slowly took one of Moira’s cuffed hands in her own, the one without the key in it, and turned the wrist until she located the keyhole. “I… I think that you deserve this.” She spoke softly. Moira’s lips parted, a sharp rebuke about to come out about how she didn’t _deserve_ to be trapped in chains before Angela produced the key and one of the shackles fell to the floor.

 _“Oh.”_ Moira’s words were nearly foisted from her without her consent, nothing but a breathy sigh that barely registered in Angela’s ears.

“Ana gave me the key before she left,” Angela explained, unlocking the other cuff and peering at the long fingers of a scientist as she turned each hand over in her own. “I considered not letting you go…”

What had come over her? Angela slowly moved down to kneel in front of this elf now carding her fingers through the blond hair and never losing eye contact. They were trapped a trance, just the two of them, thickening the air as Angela felt her way down the long pale legs to the cuffs at the bottom.

Moira gasped softly when the thin fingers slid between her ankle shackles and the skin; this human doctor had cold fingers. Angela smirked as the cuff open easily. Angela noticed, with a distracted interest, that Ephemeral Elves could blush a vibrant purple. 

“Dr. Zeigler! Open the door!” The chair had been removed when they’d let Ana in, but it seemed that the Lady Consort had locked the door behind herself to preserve their privacy. “Please, it’s urgent!” The tiny messenger beat against the wooden door with such viciousness that the entire thing shook and a layer of dust fell from its cracks.

Angela and Moira rushed apart, both of them wondering when they had gotten so close and regretting the distance all the same.

“Whazzat--” Jesse’s slurred voice was heard from the bed as he fought against the magical concoction back to reality. He had a ridiculous tolerance to all things magic, somuchso that Moira was cursing to high heaven in her language and trying to summon up tears in order to mend his arm back together before he could pull it open again. She found herself thankful for the distraction from whatever _this_ was.

“Please, Dr. Zeigler! It’s important!” Angela had never heard Lena cry out with such urgency in all the years the woman had worked here, so she unlocked the door as quickly as she could with the adrenaline causing her hands to shake. Lena was unflappable; she had never been anything but the definition of cool under pressure. This wasn’t like her.

“Yes, yes, I am here. What is it?” Angela demanded, pulling the door open even as Lena nearly fell forward from where she’d been leaning on the door to call through it.

“The king is dying! Please we need your help!” Lena cried out. She had righted herself against the fall in record time, bouncing right back up onto her feet to grab Angela by the shoulders and nearly pull her over with the effort to drag her out of the room. “Please, he’s dying!”

Angela had no time to think. She could only nod and follow, leaving Moira alone behind with the crown prince, as a sudden wash of ice cold terror slid down her spine.

The king was _dying._

Moira had been in the middle of casting a healing spell that ghosted down over his arm like pollen from her fingertips when the news came. Jesse’s sheer willpower pushed him through the sedation faster than normal; so magic was the only recourse. He grimaced as he struggled to his feet and checked his arm. The magic of the elf wasn't… quite like healing. Not really. Sure, the skin was stitched back together but as he moved it the whole arm from the elbow down seemed to shimmer in the light and crackle ever so slightly along the joints as if it wasn’t quite _his_ arm. His head swam as he nearly fell over and knocked down the IV pole in the process.

_The king was dying._

There was no time to debate the semantics. He was healed and functioning, _barely._ Moira had run to catch up to the doctor and the messenger even though it required her to run directly through the castle. Jesse didn’t know where this elf came from, and his medicine fogged mind didn’t really care, but he didn’t want his psuedo-savior to end up executed because someone had noticed the long points in her ears and he didn't want his father to die without him there.

“Hey, elf lady--” He croaked, holding his head with the arm that wasn’t still shimmering. The left felt like fizzing electricity and it left a delay in his spatial cognition, but there was no time to mourn the loss of his arm. Jesse stumbled forward and grit his teeth as his world swam. He had to be there, for good or ill.

Civellan wasn’t ready for a world where Jack was king.

Xx

“Alright… I think it’s… good!” Brigitte called before rolling herself out from under the cart where it had been propped up on the same stands that once housed the Falcon amalgamation. She flicked a lever on the stand where electricity runes were housed to break the connection and turn her welding apparatus off, and then dropped the solder somewhere above her head.

“Mm..” This heat just sapped Fareeha’s strength. She’d been steadily dozing off to visions of dark blue eyes framed in thick lashes and tiny baby hands. No self-preserving human would have stuck around through all of this for one infant, but here she was. The little toes, all ten of them perfect and tiny attached to fat baby feet and the smile of a baby too little to be able to see her face if it wasn’t a couple inches from his. Reeha had never been one of those women obsessed with babies, most of her life she couldn’t even stand them, but this one had stolen her heart when he reached out and grasped onto her finger.

‘Katsuya’, which she still wasn’t convinced that was his real name, had questioned her when she dropped off the milk and toiletries. He wanted to know what had taken so long and why she was leaving again. If she were so invested in the child, why was she leaving and would she come back?

Fareeha took a great pleasure in being able to tell him it was none of his business. The dragon had a scowl that tilted the ruthlessly groomed scruff on his jaw in a way that seemed hilarious to her. The idea of a dragon pouting was pretty funny too; a few years ago and something like pouting and _dragons_ wouldn’t have even been in the same sentence.

“Well, let’s look at it.” She huffed, fighting against the fatigue and the warm blanket of humidity to stand to her feet and push the sweaty fringe back out of her face. She padded across the stone floor while enjoying what little coolness the ancient stone had to offer into her bare feet while carefully avoiding any of the random pieces of cast-off littering the workshop floor. She didn't want to imagine how it would feel to get a shard of metal stuck in her foot.

Brig had really delivered this time. Fareeha whistled under her breath just as her older brothers had taught her to and grinned widely between the contraption and Brigitte. It was a cart, alright, but it was also so much more. The actual motor reminded her a lot of the steam motor on the bike Jesse’d lost in the crash but it sat in front of the passenger compartment and pulled the four wheels along. Brig had even included an old Falcon fuselage to keep the wind out of their face as they rumbled along. The best part was there was noticeably _no_ room for a second adult.

_Katsuya couldn’t come._

“Do you like it?” Brigitte asked, her amber eyes came into Fareeha’s field of vision as she leaned forward to get a better look at her friend. “It probably needs better doors, and the front window isn’t at the best angle, but I needed it to be done quickly so you could get back to your--”

She stopped as Fareeha raised one hand in a motion of silence. In most ways, she was a civilian and acted like one; if one didn’t know this was the daughter of the king, there were few times when it would be obvious. This was one of them. Nobody but the royal family made that motion with any success, most didn’t even try. Brigitte’s jaw snapped shut out of habit more than compliance.

“It’s wonderful,” Reeha smiled warmly and looked more like her father than ever. Brigitte’s cheeks were starting to hurt from grinning so widely for so long. She grabbed Fareeha in a bear hug and spun her off her feet.

“Good! I’m so glad you like it!”

“Let me go!” Fareeha laughed as she held onto Brigitte’s shoulders so she wouldn’t slide out mid-spin.

“What if I don’t want to?” Brigitte laughed and slowed down so at least Fareeha's feet touched the ground again. They were about the same height, when she wasn’t hoisting Reeha off her feet, but Brigitte was arguably the stronger of the two.

“Too bad. You’re sweaty and it’s nasty.” Fareeha smirked despite herself. Brigitte had always had a way of drawing people into her personality. She was welcoming in ways Reeha never had been.

“So?”

 _“So,”_ Fareeha rolled her eyes and then looked down at where they were pressed together. “I’m also sweaty and we’re going to get stuck together.”

“I don’t mind.” Brig was nothing if not insistent.

“I mind,” She didn’t. Not as much as she had thought she would. “I would like to get clean and be less sweaty.”

“Doesn’t sound like any fun to me,” Her freckled arms tightened a little and Fareeha gave in to the urge to rest her own arms over Brigitte’s shoulders rather than leaving them pinned between them.

“Oh, it’s loads of fun,” Her fight was draining out of her. It wasn’t as bad as she wanted it to be… hell, the skin to skin contact of their abdomens was bordering on pleasant. When was the last time she let someone hold her? It had been years and Fareeha had quickly learned that no one wanted to touch her unless it was to somehow earn favor from the king.

Brigitte already had favor from the king. She had nothing to gain from this, not like those men had. “It seems nice to stay like this. I’m not uncomfortable.”

She had honey-amber eyes and dusty brown lashes, pale skin with freckles and soft pink lips. When had Brigitte gotten so pretty?

A different pair of eyes floated into her mind's’ eye. First a set of wide dark-blue baby eyes that looked at her as if she were his entire world and then a set of stern golden ones that would as quickly take that child off to do what he would with it if Reeha weren’t there to stop it. As nice as this was--as _utterly gorgeous_ as Brigitte was--it wasn’t worth ruining whatever friendship they had and possibly losing Yasuo over. The mission came before anything else.

“I can’t, Brig…” The words came out as barely a whisper but it was enough to break the spell. “I have to go take care of Yasuo.” At some point this had stopped being about a sweaty hug and had morphed into something entirely new.

“I understand,” Brigitte’s face was almost painful for Reeha to look at. It would have almost been easier if the woman _hadn’t_ understood. 

“I’m sorry,” Reeha didn’t even really know what she was sorry for, only that it felt like an opportunity had passed her by.

“Don’t be,” Brigitte loosened her arms so she could raise one hand to press a finger to Fareeha’s lips. “Don’t ever be sorry for knowing what you do and don’t want.” She removed the finger and let her go slowly. “I mean, I’ll never stop being your friend.” 

Somehow, Fareeha doubted that very much; if Brigitte had any idea of the thoughts that ran through her head when she looked at her, the younger woman would be running for the hills.

“Thank you, I need that now more than ever,” and it was true.

Xx

This couldn’t be happening. The king was in good health, _perfect_ health. _This couldn’t be happening!_

The palace squire, Lena, paced anxiously outside the door of the king’s private rooms waiting for any shred of information. Jesse had asked her specifically not to get Jack just before they’d all vanished into that room. It seemed wrong, not to go bring the crown prince to this. Shouldn’t he be here? It’s his father!

She didn’t know what to think anymore. Reinhardt had personally chosen her to become the Royal messenger. It was her job to get his will, and by extension the will of his sons, to the appropriate people. Lena’s _job_ was to fulfill their orders to the fullest extent possible. So why did listening to Jesse seem so wrong? Against her better judgement, she ended up with her ear against the door to listen into the chaos on the other side. She’d never listened into a conversation concerning the king in her life, which was why she was chosen to be a messenger, but this was a hell of a time to make an exception.

“...can’t fix this, Jesse..” Angela’s voice barely filtered through the gilded oak doors closing Lena off from the rest of them.

“You have to!” Jesse’s voice was so much stronger that it almost sounded right beside her. It could have been right beside her, he seemed like the type to lean against the door whenever he didn’t want to be there.

Whatever Angela’s response was, Lena didn’t get to hear it through the sudden and violent shaking of the door as what she assumed was a fist landed on it. “That ain’t good enough, Angie!”

Lena backpedaled so fast that she ended up on her backside on the marble flooring while her mind raced to put the situation together. The king was dying and Jack, his _heir,_ wasn’t here.

Her job was to follow orders and deliver only the messages that the king and his sons wanted the recipient to hear. No gossip, no ‘extra’ information. This went directly against the grain of what she was meant to do but there wasn’t a choice. Jack had to be there.

The petite brunette forced herself onto her feet and set out in a breakneck run toward the other side of the castle where she knew Jack would be staying.

Xx

Horns had been sounding over Civellan for no more than ten minutes, but by the state of the market, one would think that complete anarchy had been announced months ago. The once warm and welcoming shopkeepers yelled and hissed at Brigitte and Fareeha as they ran past. It was completely impassable to anything so large as the cart Brigitte had made. Fareeha was reluctant to leave it behind, but they had to leave.

When the first horn had sounded, Fareeha hadn’t even been completely sure what it meant. She’d never heard it before and there was a solid minute and a half of silence between her and Brigitte as they tried to think of what it meant and waited for a subsequent crier to come behind the horn and announce what it meant. The crier never came. What they did hear, instead of a messenger calling out, was the sound of mass panic above.

Brigitte pulled Fareeha back behind her as they opened the door to the castle, barely sidestepping the huge brazier that fell over in the rush of people trying to get out of Eichenwalde. “What’s going on!?” Brigitte yelled over the clamor of people, reaching out to get ahold of one of the guards by the sleeve.

“The King is dead!”

For Fareeha, and to a lesser degree Brigitte too, the sound around her quieted to barely over a muffled whisper. Those four words could change the world; those four words could bring an entire kingdom to its knees. “Wh-What?” 'Reeha asked as she came around Brigitte to hear the guard more clearly. He couldn’t have possibly said _that._

“The King is dead!” The guard repeated, gesturing up to the huge bell towers that were still ringing, though Fareeha could no longer recognize the sound through her own shock.

“He can’t be! That’s not possible!” She contested as she threw her gaze across the sunset-lit marketplace that was packing up in a hurry.

“That’s what the bells mean, miss! It means the King died!” He called back.

“Fareeha!” Brigitte called as she pulled on her shirtsleeve, but, right now, Fareeha had no time for that. Her _father_ was dead and she hadn’t been there with him. She’d been here with this damned Dragon and wasting time when she should have been at his bedside. She should have been there!

“Fareeha--” Brigitte tried again, pulling more insistently on her entire arm.

“What!?” The guard snapped and ripped her arm back as she turned the full brunt of her denial and rage on Brigitte. “What could you _possibly want_ right _now?!”_

“We are under attack!”

That cold wash of reality managed to snap Fareeha out of her reeling and caused her to follow Brig’s long, outstretched finger toward the golden aura of a setting sun. In the panic of the death of their tolerant king, the kind of panic that could only come from knowing his immediate heir was hell bent on killing them all in their sleep, an entire air armada of pirates had risen from the vast mountains to the west. 'Reeha’s eyes widened as her mouth fell into a gape. The silhouettes were black against the bright rays of the sun. It forced her to rip her eyes away from the buzzards and back to Brigitte’s grim expression.

“I’m sorry--” Fareeha started, but Brig shook her head and grabbed a large flare gun that had been dropped in the shuffle of terrified civilians and shoved it into her chest. 

“Save it. You’re a princess, Fareeha. Your mourning comes _second_ to the people you’re meant to protect. Get up there and do your damn job.” She ordered, pointing to the maintenance ladder to the top of the docking tower that hovered above Eichenwalde. “Apologize _later.”_

She shouldn’t have snapped at Brigitte. She was just trying to help and it wasn’t her fault that the king had just died. Fareeha’s lips twisted into a tortured frown as she strapped the flare gun onto the empty thigh harness before beginning the climb up to the top. She stopped only long enough to look back at Brigitte and point to the rapidly closing gateway. “Go protect the baby!”

Brigitte answered her only with a curt nod. She was out of her nice armor and not prepared to defend this town; Eichenwalde’s population was an overwhelming amount of civilians. Despite having a huge floating base anchored by the singular elevator shaft--the same shaft Fareeha was now climbing up the side of--there was only a small amount of military personnel stationed here. It came from a treaty years back that allowed the lords to screen the members of the centralized government military that were allowed to be stationed on their lands. Most Lords didn’t invoke that authority, since every warm body from the government was a man they didn’t need to hire, but Lord Ziegler did. He protected his population, which consisted of an overwhelming two-thirds illegal hybrids or creatures, zealously and refused to accept any personnel that he believed would mistreat them.

They were out-gunned and unprepared. The small group of protection falcons were nothing against the huge zeppelins quickly closing in.  The freighter airships were sitting ducks.

Fareeha reached under her blouse and pulled out the royal seal of Knight from beneath the chiffon and let it show as she pulled herself up to the docking bay. “Get these ships out of here! Undock and get away from the town!”

The entire platform shuddered as a bomb lobbed off the nearest buzzard hit the anchoring shaft among high pitched maniacal laughter loud enough to be heard over the panicked screams of civilians. Closer up, it was easier to see that the armada had the Junker colors painted on flags over their helms. “Why?” The captain asked, holding desperately onto the railing. “That’s what they’re after! If we send them away, they won’t have any protection!”

“Because they’re floating bombs!” Fareeha snarled, shaking her head as she flung her hand out at the hydrogen filled balloons over each freighter. “What’s more important? A skeleton crew of three or four men who can parachute off the ship once it’s moved or an entire _town full of civilians?_ If they shoot them down, they’ll land on the people below!”

The most important thing Jesse had ever taught her was that if she could help it, stay far away from those things. One stray spark and the entire craft goes up in flames, taking everyone on board with it--and anyone unlucky enough to be standing where it lands.

“Those ships are carrying federal bullion. If they go down, the economy in Stonewall will grind to a halt!”

“It’s just gold! It goes down and we’ll scrape the melted puddle off the mud and recast it! You can’t recast a person!” She stepped forward and took the amulet of sovereignty off her chest and nearly snapped the chain around her neck while thrusting it toward his face. “Take the ships out!”

“But they’re illegal--”

Fareeha saw red.

“Don’t you _dare_ suggest that they are somehow less than _people_ just because they’re not on the _books.”_ She took one step forward with something burning in her eyes that caused the grizzled captain to take a step back. “Those people down there are our responsibility. Black, white, red, blue or green. Human or otherwise. They live here and it’s the only home most of them have ever known. If the fact that they’re not _like us_ is enough for you to let them die, then you are excused from this post.” Fareeha pressed her pointer finger to the bar of rank on his chest, pushing hard enough for the pin on the other side to dig into the meat of his chest before holding her hand out for him to give it over.

They stood there against a drape of golden sun and clattering metal for long enough to time to slow to a crawl. Every soldier around was apprehensively waiting for one or the other to come out victorious. Fareeha had no real authority here; not only was she a woman and a bastard child, she was also in the Royal guard. They only held authority when a royal was in the vicinity. He had every right to tell her she was full of shit and do it his way.

Another shudder of explosive hit the support column and it shook them out of the battle of wills. The captain began to issue the orders. He turned around to force his men back up into the docked freighters so that they could throw the propellers into reverse and back them out. The threat that the soldiers around him might just mutiny if he dared to disrespect the throne, along with her harsh chiding, seemed to break his racist stupor long enough to get him in gear. Good thing, too, as there was nothing to actually back it up. She didn’t even have the authority to court marshal him.

Fareeha ran to the edge of the docks and flung herself onto the railing to assess the damage to the support beam. This whole thing was going down if they couldn’t get that buzzard away from it. “How long till the falcons are fueled up and flying?” She called above the din.

“A few minutes, m’lady,” One of the deckhands answered.

 _‘It’s not fast enough.’_ They wouldn’t get out fast enough to stop the assault. The decking did have emergency flotation bladders that were slowly being inflated to reduce stress on the support column, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. Worst still, from here, Fareeha didn’t have a shot on the buzzard that couldn’t go wide and hit the civilians below.

The first step up onto the railing happened before she even realized what she was doing. The second step happened consciously as another explosion caused the entire dock to sway violently to the left and threatened to knock one of the retreating freighters right out of the sky.

Out of the corner of her eye, in the light of the setting sun a cloud of ashen black--no blue, it was a dark royal blue being lit from the inside--exploded from the battlements and a dragon erupted from it with a terrifying roar.

_Katsuya._

She never thought she’d feel relief at the sight of a huge dragon, there was a wash of artificial calm that slid over her like dipping into a cool pond on a hot summer’s day. He engaged one of the other buzzards coming toward town. Several thousand pounds of flying dragon careened into the steel monstrosity as he grabbed it by its wings in his claws. He twisted and used that momentum to fling it into the ground while launching himself higher to the top of the dock.

_‘I will catch the platform, but I cannot hold it forever.’_

His voice whispered in her ear from somewhere just beyond what Fareeha could place. It tickled somewhere behind her.

_‘Go.’_

It was a long way down. The buzzard was directly beneath her and it had an open cockpit. She could see the spikes on the makeshift flotation bladders on either side--they almost looked like those fancy tires on Jesse’s bike--and if she missed? She’d die. Fareeha would end up little more than a stain on the flagstone below or skewered on one of those spikes.

There were thousands of lives on the line, hundreds of soldiers in the tower and thousands of civilians on the ground all trapped. She gripped the edge of the railing with a white-knuckled grip and closed her eyes.

_‘You will make it, but only if you jump.’_

She’d been afraid of heights her entire life and even through what she was beginning to recognize as a magically induced calm, she could feel that terror baying at the edges of her mind.

The platform creaked. The weight lifted off the breaking central support. With this… link that Katsuya had established, she could feel his effort bleeding through. He could support the weight long enough for them to blow up the bladders but if they lost the central support, it would fall.

So she jumped.

The wind whistled past her ears as Fareeha spread her body out like she’d seen the kite scouts use to adjust their free falls, trying to angle herself toward the buzzard. The pilot came into focus faster than she was prepared for. He was filthy and covered in soot with blond hair that was still smoking at the tips. Fareeha grit her teeth and prepared for impact.

She hadn’t been prepared for how painful it would be to hit the edge of the cockpit from three stories above. It knocked the wind out of her so thoroughly that for a moment, the new terror became wondering if she would survive the fall only to suffocate here.

“Oi, Roadie! This crazy sheila just landed on me buzzard!” The unnamed pilot called through his radio.

The voice on the radio sounded as if it had been gargling gravel. “Bigger problems. Throw her off.”

Fareeha engaged her entire upper body to haul herself into the tiny cockpit, halfway on top of the systems and altitude displays and halfway out both sides. These planes were not designed to carry two people. They barely hauled one.

There was no time to question whether or not the craft would carry them. When she’d slid in the side, the control stick had gotten wedged in front her stomach and forced the plane up into the sky. When he reached for it to try and force it back down, Fareeha pulled one knee up and jammed it with as much force as she could muster into the man’s jaw.

That only seemed to make him angry. He leaned forward and punched her hard enough with a clockwork arm to make Fareeha see stars. She weakly gripped at the stick to try and throw him off and guide it away from town. This had just become a suicide mission and if she was going to die--Fareeha could see no way off this plane that didn’t involve death--she was taking him with her.

She jammed the stick further into him and then pulled her leg up to force it to stay. The whole thing reminded her of Icarus and it was time to see if they, too, would melt in the sun.

 

Xx

Brigitte had scarcely been able to find Katsuya. He hadn’t been in the barn and despite having _horns,_ she had come up with nothing. In the end, he’d actually found her. He’d handed her the baby without any explanation in a long pile of faecloth, which she’d used to make a baby sling and strap the kid to her chest, and now she was watching this huge dragon risk his life to save the people of this town.

Maybe everything she’d thought about dragons had been wrong. That didn’t seem like the actions of a self-centered survivalist. What stopped him from flying away with the baby and being safe? What kept him up there, barely able to support the weight of the huge base even as support balloons inflated with hydrogen? What made him slowly drag the now detached structure full of people that would sooner kill him than save him toward a place where it could be safely lowered to the ground?

“Hey!” Brigitte snapped out of her revere as a child’s voice called to her and tugged on her pants. It was a young elf, thrust from his home without time to pull on one of the turbans that hid their ears. “Help us get the canons working.” He demanded, pointing to where the women and children, not a one of them human, were attempting to load canons.

“Did you clean them?” She asked, grabbing the huge round bristled brush resting untouched against a wall so they could clean the barrels of the canons. “We have to brush them out or they can explode.”

This was what she knew. Before there was engineering or butterflies when looking at her friends--or even the pain of that friend getting up to her old tricks--she knew warfare. There was no time to question what was going on, only time to brush out the barrels. She was the only one who knew how to do it right.

“I’ll run and brush out the canons. There are packets of powder over there and fuses. Shove the packet in first, then roll the ball down, put the fuse through the side, aim and fire. Make sure you’re not standing behind it when it goes off!” Brigitte called, starting to brush through the first canon and then move off to the side. “Aim higher than you think you need to and aim for the big ones! If we can puncture the balloon, they’ll fall!”

“They jumped!” One of the young fae called, pointing up where Brigitte only turned fast enough to see a buzzard spin wild and then start flying up at as high an angle as it could. She didn’t have the fae eyes, not like this kid. Rather than hair, he had soft feathers atop his head and eyes so big they seemed to take up most of his face. “Did you see that? She jumped!”

“Who jumped?” Brigitte asked as she held her hands over the baby's ears as they lit a canon and fired. It went wild, but the sound caused the larger buzzards to start flying higher to stay out of range. That alone made the canons worth manning--if they were too high they couldn’t raid the town and their weapons were too expensive to just fire willy nilly.

“A lady! She just.. She got up on the edge and jumped!” He explained as he watched at her with the same distrust all the more obvious fae regarded humans with. The easier it was to tell that they were fae, the less likely they were to trust guards.

“What did she look like? I can’t see that far, I need you to tell me what is going on. We’re a team, right? This is my home too.” Brigitte knelt down to look him in the eye as he chewed on his lip and then turned back to the buzzard.

“She had black hair and these really long boots that go all the way up here--” He gestured to his mid thigh. “And she had a big flare gun on her hip.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs as she turned her head again. Fareeha had jumped onto a buzzard.

_Fareeha had jumped._

This was the same girl that wouldn’t jump four feet off a wall when they were kids and she’d jumped _God only knew_ how far to land on a moving target. 

“Where is she?” She asked as she tried not to scare the child with the urgency in her voice. A few other soldiers who were capable of cleaning the canons had been drawn in by the sound of them firing--good thing too because Brigitte felt as if her feet were glued in place--were now helping the civilians.

“She’s headed… up. I don’t know where she’s going. There’s nothing up there.” He said as he squinted up at the sun.

He wasn’t an engineer. There was a terminal point in which the flotation bladders on a buzzard would burst. They’d fall. She would die.

“She got thrown off the plane!” He exclaimed excitedly as he ran to the edge of the ramparts and watched in rapt fascination. He was watching for far longer than Brigitte as she searched the sky waiting to see the body falling to its death. Katsuya couldn’t drop the base or everyone on it would die. Brigitte couldn’t catch her or get to a falcon in time to try and catch her.

She was going to watch this woman that she loved more than anything in the world fall to her death.

“No, no no no-- Isn’t there anyone else in this place that can fly?!” Brigitte wailed desperately as she ran down the stairs.

“I-- I don’t think so?” He answered as he struggled to keep up with her longer legs.

“There has to be something we can do!” Brigitte’s voice broke as she found herself stopped by the lowered gates. “Open the gates! Open the gates, goddamn it!” She reached out and shook the iron gate, but it didn't even budge.

Out of the sky came the first figure just as a flash of light in the night sky signaled the explosion of the buzzard. It was answered by a larger explosion to the West. High in the mountains, the town of Bethany was engulfed by a huge fireball. They hadn’t had the foresight to move their freighters.

Brigitte was captive behind the portcullis. They couldn’t afford to raise the gates or the raiders would be able to get in. She couldn’t get out. Brigitte could only watch as the small speck in the sky became a distinguishable body, and then as that body became Fareeha.

Katsuya roared in frustration from atop the base. The balloons had finally filled enough that he could let go and fly toward the falling woman, but Brigitte didn’t think he could make it in time. Fareeha was speeding toward the ground and even as his body undulated in effort, it was becoming clearer and clearer: He wasn’t going to make it.

A second body fell from the clouds. It was smoking and she couldn’t tell if it was even alive, but Brigitte assumed it must been the pilot of the buzzard. She only watched the raider for a millisecond before flicking back to where Fareeha was just out of reach and hurtling toward the earth at terminal velocity.

She’d turned in her fall so that instead of hurtling toward the earth on her stomach, Fareeha had rotated herself so that her feet would hit the ground first. That was no easy feat, humans didn’t like to fall feet first, but that meant she’d crush her legs.

Who was Brigitte kidding, her best friend and the woman she’d been in love with since she was 15 was about to become a puddle. The moment of impact, that squelch of human flesh as it met hard earth, never came.

Brigitte opened her eyes just in time to see a visible shock wave of dust ripple across the ground and Fareeha shot into the air.

 


	6. The King must die so that the country can live.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The King must die so that the country can live." - Maximilien Robespierre

Fareeha grit her teeth as she rocketed into the air past the walls of Eichenwalde, past the snow capped mountains, past the smoke of the central support as it went up in flames and through a dark cloud that began to pelt the battleground below in rain. She didn’t let herself look at the ground; she _couldn’t_ let herself look at the ground.

_“You’ll be fine as long as you keep that spark in your chest.”_

He said that as if she had any idea what that ‘spark’ was. Fareeha huffed heavily, angling herself toward the falling wreckage as she moved to find the pilot. She caught the only piece of falling debris that writhed and leaned forward to snag him up by the belt.

“Oi! Crazy sheila!” He cried over the roar of the wind as it rushed over her ears. Fareeha couldn’t be bothered to ask him what he meant by that; she had bigger problems.

 _“How am I supposed to land!?”_ She hoped the dragon had some answers or else this little get out of jail free card was going to get her killed.

 _“The same way you fly.”_ A phantom pain and heat scorched up her arms and she nearly dropped her cargo until the link was closed. She couldn’t see the ground from this high, but now she was worried about Katsuya. What was going on down there?

Only one way to find out.

“You land the same way you fly,” Fareeha scoffed to herself and shook her head, “That’s easy enough for the guy with _wings_ to say.” She wasn’t exactly sure what was even keeping her aloft. When she had shot off the ground, the only thing in her mind had been ‘up’. It was a running mantra in the back of her head even now as she tried to angle back toward Eichenwalde. If nothing else, the new added weight from the squirming Junker was enough to start pulling her back to the ground.

Fareeha raised her free arm to protect her eyes from the rain that was steadily getting stronger as they came below the line of the clouds. Katsuya was limping around on the ground as he spat lightning at the pirates that tried to make their way into the front gate. It was hard to see from here, but that phantom pain from before must have been caused by whatever was now causing him to limp.

She focused on the ‘up’ in her mind. Each ‘up’ was punctuated by resistance she could set her feet on. It reminded her of the games her and Jesse used to play in the kitchen. They’d mixed so much cornstarch with water once that it had filled up a tub: someone could walk across it if they ran or jumped but if they slowed down, they’d sink.

She wondered what would happen if she wanted to go ‘down’? Almost as quickly as the thought passed her mind, that gentle support under her feet fell away and she began to free fall with a scream.

“Up, up, up--!” Fareeha screamed, pushing her legs against nothing as the terror of before leaked into her veins. This time, instead of borrowed dragon magic, the creature himself was the one to rush up into the air and catch her.

 _“You did well,”_ His words chimed in her mind. Thankfully the words didn’t also come with more pain. Fareeha hoped that meant he was feeling better, however, his close to his front leg, she could see the blistering and bubbling. It looked like a burn. Could Dragons be burned?

 _“Certain dragons can burn,”_ He answered. She'd forgotten that he was listening to her mind. _“I can,”_ He lowered them to the ground inside the citadel and transformed back into a bipedal shape to give the remaining guards room to arrest the cackling arsonist.

“How did you get burnt?” Fareeha questioned, but she didn’t get to hear the answer. Someone called her name from the top of the battlement and when she turned to look back at it, that same person had run down the stairs and nearly toppled her over in a hug.

“Brigitte!” ‘Reeha gasped, looking down at her and checking over Yasuo.

“Are you ok? What happened out there? I thought you were going to die!?” Brigitte gushed as she fought to get the harness off so that the baby strapped to her chest could be given over to the dragon.

“I don’t really know what happened… I think I borrowed magic?” Fareeha asked the dragon who shook his head.

“You didn’t borrow anything. That’s something you did on your own.” He was focused on helping Brigitte unwrap the long faecloth without letting it dip into the mud.

“But I can’t do magic,” Fareeha said slowly, pulling away from Brigitte to give her room to let the baby out of his wrap.

“Can or cannot, we cannot discuss this here.” Katsuya informed her as he took the child with a badly burned arm. The angry red bubbling extended all the way up his shoulder and over his back, only visible because he’d taken off the silk jacket he was wearing. “You have a battle to win still.”

So they did. Fareeha and Brigitte’s eyes turned to regard the gate where the small force of civilian militia and what survived of the military post were trying to fight back pirates hell bent on taking everything they could find or sell. Fareeha grabbed a sword from a nearby corpse. This poor pirate had met the business end of Katsuya’s claws. She tried not to think about it as she pulled the saber from his belt and charged into the fray. She didn’t like that Brigitte was literally holding a busted kite shield beside her without an inch of armor.

It was lucky for them that they’d essentially already beaten the Junkers. When the largest pirate buzzard sounded a horn, the busted up men she was fighting turned to retreat.

“Do we chase them?” Brigitte asked Fareeha softly. Fareeha shook her head. The battle was won, chasing them would change nothing.

“No, let them run. We’ll take care of them later.” That was assuming that Jack didn’t knight them for attacking a town filled with magical creatures and half-breeds. Both of those things were extremely illegal in Civellan and she had a bad feeling that Jack was planning on enforcing it.  _Promptly._

Fareeha sagged under the weight of all of it. The power that came with adrenaline had ebbed away and it took her strength with it. Regardless of the fact they’d protected the town, most of the outermost farms had been reduced to rubble and the large pillar that supported the airships was now completely detached and laying on its side. All the barracks on the side resting against the ground were crushed under the weight of it. “What are we going to do, Brigitte?”

“I don’t know,” She answered softly as she surveyed the walls. Part of the outside portion of the wall was starting to crumble and the entire gate was slowly being engulfed in fire. Eichenwalde had survived the fight, but at what cost?

\---

Beneath the capital of Civellan was a network of catacombs so large and numerous they rivaled the cities of the dwarves. Each cavern was large enough a fully grown wyrm could have enough room to reach top speed flying while plunder still sat at the bottom. When the humans had taken the land, it had been full of enough gold to bankroll the new country to the center of world politics.

Ana was running along the wooden human-sized platforms down through the caves, trying to ignore the sound of bats and running water as she did. The humans used it as a stockpile for goods. Entire rooms had been closed off and turned into grain silos, while other rooms acted as an armory. This was how the army managed to get in and out of the city so easily; they were barracked beneath it so they weren't required to march through the civilian population to be dispatched.

It’s alternative, and arguably more valuable, purpose was as an emergency escape. She looked behind her at Jack’s guards as they chased her. This was how deposed rulers and shamed politicians made it out of the capitol building without being caught out above. She grit her teeth and ran as fast as she could muster. Ana was arguably in great shape for someone her age, but this wasn’t an easy trip, even still. She ducked around the corner in the path, stopping there to hiss air in through her nose and try not to alert the guards that she was still there. Reinhardt wasn’t even dead, but Jack was already working overtime as if he was--

They passed the corner and she grit her teeth as she reared up and kicked the biggest guard in the back, sending him sailing right through the guardrail and into the cavern below. She backed up, hands out while waiting to see what her second pursuer would do. “You don’t have to do this…” Ana coaxed, “You could just turn around and tell Jack you couldn’t find me.”

“He’s going to be the king, m'lady. I can’t do that.” He began to advance and she grit her teeth. This kid was too young to die; he was just a baby in her eyes.

“You’re gonna have to.” She leapt forward, grabbing him by the shoulder to spin him around and then pull the man into a hard choke hold.

He, predictably, went down like a house of cards.

Ana left him sitting safely away from the edge. If she didn’t have to, she didn’t want to kill anyone. These were good men who just wanted to do the right thing by their king. It wasn’t their fault that Jack was already trying to consolidate power. If anything, it made sense to take care of any threats to his position. She was a huge threat, but one that wouldn’t be a problem until Reinhardt was out of the way. Why was he already hunting her down? Sure, the king had had a heart attack but it wasn’t a done deal. He'd had heart attacks before.

She jogged down the platform. The exit to this part of the tunnel would spit her out near the town of Bethany which was a usual holdover point for the royal family whenever they left the city this way. The clanging of the bells were so distant at first that she almost thought she was hearing things. As she approached the large wooden door that would open to a nearby cave, the bells became more and more clear.

 _That_ was why Jack was already hunting her down.

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She fell to the dirt wall and gripped her chest. Reinhardt was dead. Her love was _dead._ She hadn’t properly cried like this in so long that the first sob that ripped itself out of her came as a surprise. The other sobs made perfect sense.

_Reinhardt was dead._

At first, Ana cried for herself. She cried for the loss of her love, the loss of the father of her child, the loss of her king. Then, she cried for everyone else. Civellan had lost the only king most of them had ever known. Reinhardt had been very young when he ascended to the throne and a vast majority of the hidden and sheltered hybrid population had been allowed to live--even thrive--here as a result of his looking the other way. All those people were suddenly without protection. She, herself a member of a lesser noble family in Medrawt and therefore the carrier of a magical lineage, was high on the list of people Jack would want to get rid of.

Ana bit her lip and shook her head. She didn’t have time to mourn, there were things to do. She needed to find Fareeha. They’d have to flee the country. She wiped her cheeks and squared off her shoulders, those would be the last tears she could cry. Fareeha had to be found.

“If I were a dragon, where would I take a young girl and a baby?” Ana asked herself as she walked out of the small hillside to the carnage that was Bethany and it’s sister-town Eichenwalde. Bethany had been leveled to the ground; it looked as if the huge hydrogen balloons that held up its defensive fleet had been set on fire and now the town was little more than a charred husk of ruined buildings and vaguely humanoid shapes.

The _smell_ alone was terrible. Ana felt her dinner threaten to come back up and she pulled her shawl up over her nose to try and keep the smell out. The smell of burning hair was bad on it’s own; nothing could have prepared her for the smell of burning _everything._ Even with the shawl, she was barely able to keep from vomiting as she staggered away from the wreckage. No one could have survived that.

Her eyes were watering for a new reason as smoke rolled over the hillside. Ana ran as quickly as possible from the town as she tried to put as much space between her and this atrocity as possible. What the _hell_ had happened?

A downed buzzard laying in pieces on the ground part of the way between Bethany and Eichenwalde provided an answer. It’s side panels were ripped open by claws big enough to be only one thing and the pirate inside was but a stain on the windshield.

The nearby raiding pirates had taken advantage of the chaos to attack the outlying cities when the bells had rung. In the case of Eichenwalde, only one of numerous farm towns dotting the edges of the mountains outside Stonewall, they’d been fought off by what looked to be a dragon. From her vantage point, she could see that every other city in the area had been leveled to the ground.

If she was going to find Fareeha anywhere, it would be there. As far as she knew, there was only one dragon in Civellan.

\---

“Your highness--”

Jack raised a hand to stop the advisor from where he sat heavily on the throne. It’d only been a few short hours since he’d gotten the news. His elven prisoner had vanished along with the doctor in charge of his father’s care, which he could only guess was because of their shame. They’d let the king die in their care. That doctor especially deserved punishment; she’d allowed an elf to act as her nurse. How could she think that he wouldn’t die under Moira’s watch?

He shook his head and crossed his legs. The throne room was lit only by a single candle sitting beside him and the beautiful stained glass scenes depicted in the vestibule. The moonlight shining through the colorful panes reflected against the mosaic on the floor and gave him something to think about that didn’t include being king.

“What is it?” He asked, closing his eyes.

“Your other advisors and generals are gathering like you asked.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like this advisor, that wasn’t it at all. The whole thing was tedious. Regardless, the faster he stepped into his father’s shoes, the faster the country would stabilize after losing the king. Jack stood up and reached out for the royal scepter that Reinhardt had always left on the stand beside the throne in favor of keeping his warhammer nearby. Jack could make use of it.

“Good.” The crown prince was due to be crowned in a week. They were to give the country a week to grieve before he was going to step into his father’s shoes, but that didn’t mean this was a vacation. Jack followed along behind the advisor, looking over his shoulder to where Gabriel stood like he always did. “Did you take care of it?”

“She should be found within the day.”

“I want that loose end taken care of as quickly as possible.” Jack instructed as he strode into the War Room that stood between the throne room and the Senate. Before him stood an array of men that his father had appointed years ago and most of them had bullied Reinhardt into policies he didn’t like. Jack’d been here the day that they had used Reinhardt’s soft heart against him and opened up trade with Ulythyr. It might have made economic sense, but with the history between their countries it was almost a concession.

Jack stood there with his back rigid while he looked each of them pointedly in the eye. He waved a single hand dismissively. “You’re all fired.”

They stood there in a shocked silence. A couple of the generals laughed because they thought it was a joke. Jack raised an eyebrow. He was daring one of them to step out of line. “Get _out,_ you’re all fired.”

“You’re serious?” Edgerton, one of the oldest standing advisors, was the first to speak up.

“Deathly. Get out of my sight. You’re all relieved from duty, I’ve already chosen your replacements. Effective as of tonight, none of you work for the Royal Family any longer.” Jack pointed to the door as the group slowly began to filter out. Any that stood there longer than the rest were swiftly arrested for disrespecting the crown. He wouldn’t put up with their insubordination any longer.

“What next?” Gabriel asked from behind him. Jack retrieved a small notebook from his back pocket and crossed something off his list.

“I want all the heads of Communication and Defense in here. I’ve got some changes to policy… and bring me Lacroix.”

\---

“What happened to your arm?”

Brigitte had let them all come to her home and, for now, they'd agreed not to talk about the magical flight. It was nestled behind the workshop on a lower level so that the heat of the forge didn't seem inside. The makeshift house was nice enough and an open portion of wall allowed them to tie up Yasuo’s goat outside. The baby was being fed currently while Brigitte fussed over Katsuya’s arm.

“It got burned.” Katsuya stated simply. Brigitte narrowed her eyes at him and smacked the good shoulder.

“I _gathered_ that. How did it get burned?” She asked as she continued to smear a healing salve that they’d bought from the local apothecary. The elven woman promised it would work and as she applied it, it did seem to be soothing the red inflamation.

“When I was carrying the tower. It lit on fire.” He explained without returning her agitation.

Fareeha looked up from where she was dipping the cloth in milk and feeding it to the infant again. “Why didn’t you just let go of it?”

“How? Drop it on the ground?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow. “When the fire caught the support balloons, I flew up to the top and held it up so that the soldiers could get off and hauled it away.”

Brigitte pursed her lips while she applied the cream to cover each section of burn. A single large burn on a dragon was hardly the casualty that it could have been. Dragons were inherently logical creatures but still-- “Why?”

“Why… what?” He turned slitted reptilian eyes her way. She watched as he slowly extended his nictitating membrane; the clear eyelid slid across his eye and then back out of the way in an unsettling manner. If it weren’t for _that,_ and the scales here and there, his face wouldn’t look anything but human. He had thick lashes that she was intensely jealous of and an unimpressed twist in his salmon-colored lips. It was only once she got up slightly above the hairline when his long golden horns began and the pointed ears capped in blue scales that reality became hard to ignore.

“Why would you risk yourself for a bunch of human soldiers?” She asked as she began to wrap his arm up.

“Those soldiers didn’t need to die today,” He shrugged as he turned to watch Fareeha place the baby into a blanket lined crate where he’d be warm and could sleep. “They could be saved, why wouldn’t I save them?”

“You got burned for it.” The fact that a dragon even could be burned was fascinating to her. He’d already explained to her that his magic was storm-based, so he wasn’t immune to fire, but it still blew her mind.

Fareeha came closer. The two of them made eye contact, she cocked her head to the side and Katsuya nodded to her. Brigitte didn’t know what had changed between them but something was different. Fareeha sat on the chair behind where he was sprawled out mostly on the ground and began to card her fingers through the long, black hair.

“It’s not my place to decide that my pain is worth more than their lives,” He shrugged and closed his eyes to enjoy the pampering. It seemed even the strong willed dragon could be lulled into enjoying the finer things in life.

“That’s noble,” Brigitte mused as she finished attaching the bandage so that it would completely cover his arm. She sat back on her feet and watched the pair of them. They were so cute that it left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She had thought that he'd be a real tool when Fareeha had first shown up, but now that she finally got to meet him but he didn’t seem so bad. “Why doesn’t the baby have horns? Do they grow in later?”

Katsuya’s eyebrows drew closer in confusion and he opened his eyes, “What?”

“Yasuo. Why doesn’t he look like you? He looks like her, but shouldn’t he have horns too?”

He sat there as the clear membrane flicked over his eyes a few more times before he started to laugh loudly.

Brigitte pouted and crossed her arms when Fareeha started laughing with him. It seemed a perfectly valid question to _her._ If one parent was a dragon, why didn’t Yasuo look like a dragon? “There’s no reason to laugh. It might be common knowledge to other people but I don’t know. Don’t be rude.”

 _“Sumimasen--”_ He laughed while he waved a hand and he tried to stop the laughter. He just ended up snorting through his nose instead. In any other circumstances, the sparking electricity that arced over his beard when he did would have been hilarious. It was hard to find it funny when it was directed at her.

“The baby isn’t his.” Fareeha coughed out and choked on the laughter. “The baby isn’t either of ours.”

“...what?” Brigitte narrowed her eyes at the two of them before looking back at the makeshift crib. Sure, she was terrible at telling which kid belonged to which adult, but she hadn’t imagined she was _that_ bad. He seemed to be bonded to Fareeha.

“I saved the baby,” Katsuya explained as he managed to finally compose himself. “His mother wasn’t going to survive labor and if she died, he would too. I saved him and tried to give him to his father but the man didn’t want a baby saved by dragon magic. I took him with me. She chased me.”

“He thought I could feed the baby!” Fareeha chortled and gesturing to her chest. “So he brought me out here.”

“I did not know mammals needed to give birth before they could produce milk,” Katsuya scowled. He crossed his arms before wincing and hanging them loose again. “I’m a reptile. This isn’t something that I needed to know.”

 _“Anyway,”_ Brigitte sighed heavily while she rubbed the bridge of her nose. So they hadn’t been a couple at all. She’d just managed to put her foot in her mouth. “What are you going to do with the baby?”

“He’s coming with me--” They both started then stopped. He couldn’t go with the dragon _and_ the princess of the most magic fearing country on the globe.

“I can take care of him. He’s coming with me.” Katsuya insisted.

“You didn’t even know what kind of milk to feed him!” Fareeha screeched and suddenly there was trouble in paradise again. The woman pulled herself out of the chair where she’d been sitting behind him and let the silky black mane fall out of the braid she’d begun.

“I know now! I have great wealth, I can take good care of him. I’ll hire a human woman to help me.” Katsuya insisted, narrowing those slitted eyes in her direction.

“Where? Ryu? He’s a human. They’ll eat him alive there.” Fareeha made a good point.

“Not if he’s under my care, I have influence.” Well, they didn’t know anything about the Empire. That could very well be true. Brigitte felt like a tennis ball as she bounced from one person to the other.

“You could be the Emperor! Humans aren’t welcome there, I’m not going to let you take him there!” Fareeha scoffed and flung her hands up in frustration.

His face twisted in an odd manner. “Humans are plenty welcome there. There is a native population of humans, they’re taken care of.”

Both women looked at each other before back at him. This was news to them. No one had known there were any humans in the Empire anywhere, they’d assumed the dragons had killed any human there. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in the least. I own a sizable portion of land and I have lots of humans living on it.” He stood up and started to gather up what little he had along with the things Yasuo needed.

The pair of them were quiet as they watched him start to pack. Fareeha wasn’t sure what to say to that and Brigitte wasn’t sure if she could say what needed to be said. She finally got up the courage to ask, watching him gather up his things.

“Are they slaves?”

He stopped packing and rigidly stood up as he looked over his shoulder. “Slavery of any kind is completely illegal in the Empire.” Katsuya snapped, “So _no_ they are _not_ slaves.”

Slavery wasn’t even technically illegal here. If they were magical creatures, they could be enslaved in Civellan, though few did it because it could also be deemed harboring a magical creature which was a serious crime. If it was seriously illegal in the Empire then he had every reason to be angry at them for suggesting it.

He grabbed his silk robe and began putting it on, already searching for his shoes. “Where are you going?” Brigitte asked, watching him tie the sash at his waist.

“I’m taking Yasuo and I’m leaving. This place is going to be swarmed in military soon.” He snapped though pulling the sash tight caused pain to flash over his face.

“You can’t!” Brigitte gasped as he pulled on his shoes. “You’re injured and Fareeha can’t just leave here! He needs his mother--”

“His mother is dead.”

“The woman who carried him is dead, but I’m the only mother he’s ever known.” Fareeha interjected. “What’s to say that bum arm doesn’t make you drop him mid-flight?”

“I would _never_ drop him.” Katsuya flipped around and sneered at them both. Brigitte was scared that they were playing a dangerous game with a powerful creature that could very easily crush them both. Now that he was angry arcs of storm power twisted down his unburned arm and leaked out of his eyes. Where was the gentleman who let Fareeha braid his hair only moments before?

“I know you wouldn’t on purpose, but you’re injured.” Fareeha put both of her hands up as she tried to placate him. “He’s very small and he can get cold at high altitudes and you’re injured. Stay here for a while. My brother will be king, maybe I could convince him to stay away.” She offered softly.

“I very much doubt that.”

Fareeha turned around to look at the door where her mother was leaning on the jamb. “Momma!” She rushed forward to squeeze her mother around the waist tightly. “How did you find me?”

“I followed the dragon,” Ana chuckled as she squeezed her daughter tightly around the shoulders. “My daughter was stolen by a dragon and I didn’t think there would be two.”

Katsuya had paused in his packing to focus his attention on the newest addition to the small group. He didn’t quite know what to make of her. “I apologize for any trauma. I needed the help.”

Ana looked over ‘Reeha’s shoulder to make eye contact with him. “I imagine you did need the help if there’s a baby involved.”

“How much did you hear?” He asked and watched her with trepidation.

“Enough.” Ana returned easily. She smiled at him and something about it sent a chill up his spine. Her eyes looked over his tattoed left arm and then flicked up to his face. “You look like somebody I used to know.”

“That’s strange, I don’t remember ever meeting you before.” Katsuya returned, but his posture was tight and withdrawn. Fareeha couldn’t shake the fact that there was something they weren’t telling her.

“If I’m doing my job right, you wouldn’t.” Ana smirked and crossed her arms before looking around the room. “You’re a long way from home, my friend.”

“I am indeed. I’ll thank you not to remind me.” Katsuya was still bristling, but a majority of his complaints seemed to have ebbed in favor of distrusting Ana.

“I won’t, for now.” Ana sat down in the same chair that Fareeha had only recently vacated and looked him over. “Are you leaving, then? Even injured as you are?”

“Your daughter advised against it.” He decided to sit down on Brigitte’s bed.

“I would usually agree with her but…” Ana tilted her head, “In light of certain events I would suggest that we all leave. _Quickly.”_

“What events, Mama? Father dying?” Fareeha asked as she sat down on the floor to her mother’s left.

“No, Habibti,” Ana shook her head, “Not your father dying, your brother ascending. He’s already sent men to kill me and Reinhardt isn’t even cold yet.”

“What--” Fareeha had known that Jack hated her mother, but that was extreme. “What about Jesse? Won’t he stop him?”

“I fear there is little he can do. That run in with your dragon friend left him seriously injured. He’s recovering quickly, but there’s little the second in line can say to the king.” Ana frowned before shaking her head. “I know that he won’t come for magical creatures and hybrids immediately, but threats to the crown are something he would do well to dispose of as fast as possible. You’re a bastard and I am the king’s mistress. We’re in danger.”

“I can’t leave Eichenwalde.” Brigitte whispered softly, breaking the conversation they were having. “These are my people and they need me more than ever. Who will protect them when Jack comes?”

“Then you stay… but Fareeha and I need to go.” Ana looked over to the dragon who was once again pulling things to himself. “Can we leave with you…? What do you go by?”

“Katsuya.” He responded, looking up at her as he lifted Yasuo’s box. The hard work Brigitte had done had been destroyed in the battle, there was little they could do save for walk with his arm in that condition.

“Well, Katsuya,” Ana stood up and dusted off her pants. “How do you feel about Farstriders?”

\---

“Jack, what the _hell_ is goin’ on?” Jesse snarled as he threw open the door to Jack’s office. He’d been laid up in the hospital recovering from blood loss for the last couple of days and he came to in a world where his father was dead and the entire country was on the edge of a riot.

“What’re you on about?” Jack regarded his younger brother before returning to where he was deciding the official wording of the promotional posters he was planning on putting up.

“First I hear you’ve fired the whole damn cabinet ‘n then Lena tells me you’ve gotta goon squad hunting down Momma--”

Jack interrupted him with a wave of the hand and a raised eyebrow. Jesse was red in the face but none of that impressed the would-be king. He hadn’t been crowned _yet,_  but he was still the acting power of the government. “Our mother died when you were born, I’m not sure exactly what you think I can hunt. She’s a corpse.”

Jesse snarled and jabbed a finger at Jack even as the older sat back in his chair and tilted his nose up. “That ain’t who I meant and you know it. You’re hunting down Ana ‘n ‘Reeha and I’m here to put a stop to it.”

“She’s a bastard and the king’s former mistress,” Jack shrugged easily as he poured wax onto the page and then sealed it. “I’m not sure what there is to say about it. They pose a threat to the crown.”

“You sonnovabit--” Jesse spat out as he strode over and threw the papers in the floor. “That is _not_ how we do things here, Jack. She’s your _sister.”_

“She’s a _threat.”_ The man leaned back and crossed both arms. The elf woman’s magic had clearly tainted his brother. The shimmering surreal quality to the skin on his right arm was visible even with his riding gloves on. It almost didn’t look real. “Ana is an agent from Medrawt and Fareeha is a bastard child capable of contesting the throne, there is no kingdom in the world that would allow that. You need to stop thinking with your emotions and start thinking with your head.”

“Think with my head--” Jesse reeled back as if completely thrown off by how callous Jack was being. He knew Jack was cold as ice, but this was a lot even for him. “You’re hunting down our little sister ‘n yer tellin’ me t’ think with my _head?”_

“Yes.” Jack didn’t go for the papers on the ground, but instead continued to work on the one in his hand.

“What’re you gonna do when you get ‘em, huh?” Jesse snarled, but he didn’t really want to know. Even if Jack didn’t kill them, the man wasn’t particularly well known for being kind to his prisoners.

“I’ve already got the carpenters working on father’s old wing of the building. They’re going to make it escape-proof. I’ll hold them as prisoners. They’ll be comfortable.”

Jesse’s eyes widened as he took a step back from Jack. _His_ room was in that wing. Did that mean that Jack was planning on having him imprisoned too?

“Glad you’ve gotten with the picture, little brother.” Jack chuckled from across the desk at Jesse. “Yes, you’ll be in there too. Can’t have you embarrassing the crown any more with your _shenanigans.”_

“You’re fuckin’ sick, Jack. Lockin’ up yer own family--” Jesse shook his head and backed up as the door shut behind him. He looked behind him to see Gabriel standing there ready to keep him from leaving. “What the hell happened to make you like this?”

“Everything.” Jack smirked and sat back in his chair to savor his victory. “Check mate, Jesse.”

“I think the fuck _not.”_ Jesse whirled around and threw one of his legendary left hooks at the guard before kneeing him in the gut and then ripped the door open, running out of the room. He had to get out of this castle. He needed to find Ana and Fareeha and protect them from this maniac.

“Catch him, Gabe!” Jack ordered as he stood and pointed over the desk even as Gabriel had to haul himself onto his feet and wipe blood from his lower lip.

“Workin’ on it, Jackie.” He grit his teeth and ran behind Jesse to catch up with him. At first, he thought the prince would go to his room to try and take something with him, but Jesse didn’t do that at all. Instead he took a sharp left at the first archway as if he was headed for the kitchens. What would he need in the kitchens? There wasn’t another way out--

Gabe turned the corner and the younger prince ambushed him with the business end of a marble statue.

Jesse backed up slowly as the guard fell to the ground, just to make sure that Gabe was really down for the count, before turning around to run for his room. He needed to grab enough clothes, money, and other necessities to make it out of the capital alive. He ducked behind a wall just as another bunch of goons ran by. Shit, how many men did Jack have out looking for him? When did Jack completely lose his mind?

Jesse slunk into the kitchens and pulled a spice jar off the top rack so he could press a button hidden behind. The whole rack to slide over to the side. This passage was nearly forgotten--hell, he only knew about it because of dumb luck--and the men wouldn’t know how to find him.

 Jack seemed to think that he’d already bolted out the door so getting to his room was the easy part. Jesse grabbed his things and started to shove them into a bag. “Clothes, money, signet--” He turned around and pulled a box out from under the bed where he kept Peacekeeper and armed himself while putting extra ammunition in an easy to access pocket on his backpack.

The last thing he needed would be the hardest to access. Jesse looked over his shoulder at the heavy footfalls of men running down the hall and grit his teeth. If he got caught now it would be game over, but there was no way to know when he’d be able to come back home. If Jack was truly as much of a tyrant as he seemed, he may never be able to return. That wasn’t a risk Jesse was willing to take.

He slunk as far down the main hall as he could before slipping into the servant’s corridor to make it the rest of the way to the King’s Chamber. Jack wasn’t going to be taking up his father’s old room, it was in the same wing as Jesse's room. Jesse knew his hunch was right when he pushed the door open to reveal that the dark quarters that had been largely untouched.

The prize he’d worked this hard to get his hands on was sitting on the side table. He moved as quickly across the room as his weight would let him do without making noise and took the pictures out of the nearby picture frame. In the front picture was one of Jesse, Fareeha, Jack and Ana. Reinhardt kept the people closest to him right beside his bed to the day he’d died. Jesse scoffed some at Jack’s young visage but placed it in his journal so it wouldn’t get folded. The second picture was one of his mother, Trinity. She was smiling and standing beside the Crown Prince Reinhardt.

That was the day his father had proposed to the daughter of the head cook. It’d been a scandal that rocked every noble house from here to Ulythyr, and back but Reinhardt had loved her and would settle for no one else. Jesse smiled and touched the dimple in his left cheek before gently running his fingers over the matching dimple in hers. There was no way he could’ve remembered the woman who died giving birth to him, but some days Jesse could swear he missed her.

The tender moment was interrupted by the sound of soldiers busting in the door to his room down the hall. He slid the picture into his journal beside the other one, closed the leather cover and twisted the cord around the closure before shoving it into his bag. No time to wait, it was time to get out of here.

The second reason Jesse had come to Reinhardt’s quarters was because the king had an escape route directly from his bedchambers that few people knew about. He pulled down one of the small cherub carvings on the headboard and the entire bed raised to reveal a staircase down to a hallway that lead directly to the Menagerie.

He pulled the hidden lever and waited as the bed slowly raised, even as marching footsteps got closer and closer to the door. The bed raised just fast enough for him to slide under it and pull the passage back down into place. Now, all bets were off.

Jesse hightailed it into the fastest run of his life and desperately held onto his hat with one hand and his bag with the other while he booked it down the stairs. It was technically a part of the Zoo, but the creatures were kept in the Royal stables because these were the best of the best and he had one of them in mind.

There weren’t many creatures in the stables that were big enough for a man to ride on--he couldn’t very well take a horse since Jack would be watching them for him to show up--and there also weren’t very many that had a temperament soft enough for someone to ride them. There was one, however, that had been raised from birth to let children ride it as part of the exhibit. If it’d tolerate a whelp riding it, it would tolerate him.

“Howdy there, partner…” Jesse called as he took the saddle off the wall and slowly approached the huge creature. Great Moose, that’s what they called it up north. Jesse didn’t know the fancy scientific name for it, but what he _did_ know was that it was a regular moose’s bigger, uglier and _meaner_ older cousin. “I know I look funny, but I’mma need you t’ not bite me.”

The creature looked over at him and then, after deciding he was harmless, went back to chomping down on the grass that grew near the door to his stall. Jesse took that as permission and threw the saddle on. Lucky for him, saddling up a Great Moose was essentially identical to saddling a horse when it came down to it. Getting on was significantly more difficult. It was several feet higher off the ground, but he managed it and kicked the beast into motion. “Hiyah!”

Jesse wasn’t sure exactly how fast he’d thought this thing would be, but it surpassed even his wildest dreams as it hit top speed and jumped the fence like it was nothing.

 _‘Catch_ this, _Jacko.’_


	7. Corruption is just another form of Tyranny.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Corruption is just another form of Tyranny." Joe Biden

Jesse grit his teeth tightly as he fought to hang onto the short fur at the base of the huge creature’s neck. Taking off on a Great Moose had seemed like a good idea at first but this thing did _not_ want him on it’s back. He’d ridden his fair share of horses and farstriders--hell, he’d even taken the plunge on a couple of screechers in the Crevasse--but none of those creatures could prepare him for how fast this moose ran at full tilt or how  _angry_ it would be.

He didn’t think the creature could sweat. If it could then it would’ve already, with as hard as it was bucking and running. Jesse had considered grabbing it by the horns, but the vision of being flung over its head and trampled was enough to keep him away from them. He’d seen these creatures carve up trees, he had no doubt it could haul his skinny ass wherever it wanted if he grabbed them.

What he really needed was a good spot to drop off it's back. He could hear the signature burbling of the Elsewhere nearby, but not close enough that he could jump into it. “Get out of the way! I can’t control it!” Jesse called out to the nearby civilians just as the moose threw itself into the side of a nearby building. He cried out in pain, taking the brunt of it to the thigh. _‘I’ve gotta get offa this thing.’_

As much as Jesse would’ve liked to land in something soft, the moose had other plans entirely. It ran as fast as it could and then, just as Jesse had adjusted to the gallop, it stopped dead and jerked forward to buck him over the head of it.

 Jesse realized as he came to through the fog of pain that this was the second time this week he’d been thrown over the handles of something. At least this time nothing seemed broken this time. Hopefully.

“Hey hey hey--” God, that voice was loud. “Get back, give him some air.”

Jesse’s eyes fluttered open slowly as he groaned in pain.

“Are you alright, Jesse?” A woman was kneeling over him with long blond hair tucked behind her ear and a low cut dress that only barely managed to keep her breasts in. He recognized her because he was a frequent customer of her… wares.

“Yeah, Sally… ‘m good.” He grit through his teeth and tried to pull himself up into a sitting position. Skirts began to gather around him on every side as the residents of the poorest district of Stonewall came out. This was home to more brothels than legitimate establishments. Sally pulled out one of her hankies and began to dab the back of his head and Jesse laughed to himself. He must have busted it in the fall. It suited him to be rescued by prostitutes.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Another woman knelt beside him and he recognized her too. Rosie was a sweet girl and she never asked him to pay but he always did. Girls gotta eat and if they wouldn’t take his money then he’d bring them all groceries. Funny, it was the people with the least to give that were often the most generous.

“‘M hurtin’ girls,” Jesse finally admitted. His world was spinning. He could barely hear the sound of hooves pounding on cobblestone; That would be the king’s guard. “They’re comin’ for me. Don’t get in the way, they’ll hurt you--”

Sally’s head whipped around and Jesse caught himself staring at the pretty golden curls when they hung in his face. When the lights hit them just right, they sparkled a little. Clearly, he had a concussion.

“Stand aside, ladies.” Jesse couldn’t see them but he could imagine that the guards were all on their horses looking regal. He hoped they wouldn’t hurt these working girls. They were all real good people, despite what those in the higher echelon might think. “We’re here to take him.”

“What’chu want ‘im for?” That’d be Reba. He recognized her accent and the way she popped her gum. That girl didn’t put up with nothing off of nobody and he liked that about her. He barely heard the sound of boots reaching the ground. At least one of them was getting off a horse.

“We’re here on the orders of the king. He’s wanted for attacking a Royal Guard and fleeing capture.”

“He’s a prince,” Sally scowled and actually crawled closer so she could protect Jesse with her torso. Her curls danced just in front of his eyes. “You can’t just detain him.”

“‘Sides,” Reba’s gum popped again, “We ain’t got no king. He _dead.”_

“Crown Prince Jack will be crowned at the end of the week.” Jesse managed to open his eyes and try to get a look at how many were there. It were only 6 or 7 guards, but that would be enough to take him easily. “He wants Jesse taken back and detained.”

“Try ‘n take ‘im.” Reba stepped up and Rosie stepped beside her a heartbeat later.

“Don’t get hurt on my account--” Jesse grit his teeth as he tried to sit up further as the sea of skirts moved forward to obscure him from the guards.

“Shush up, Jesse,” Sally murmured as she guided him to lay back on her lap and gently pet his hair. “You been good to us girls. We ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. What happened?”

“Jack’s crazy--” Jesse grit out as he swallowed back bile and terror. Royal guards took no prisoners. They would kill these women and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He was only barely recovered from his last injury. “He’s crazy and he’s trying to remove any threat to his power.”

“That’s a step off treason, little prince.” The guards were all starting to get off their horses. The unit commander, Jesse could tell by his gaudy epaulets, had stepped chest to chest with Reba. She was drop dead gorgeous, but a fucking Amazon of a woman.

“‘N whatchu plannin’ to do about it?” Reba spat as she stepped into him and physically moved him back whether he liked it or not. There was a good reason the police stayed out of this district and this unfortunate group was about to learn why.

“Move or you will _be_ moved.” A ripple of chuckles and scoffs ran through the women as a few cracked their knuckles.

“Try it, big boy.” Rosie laughed as she produced a knife from one of the pockets tucked in her petticoats. “I wanna see you try to talk shit with this knife shoved between you ‘n the family jewels.”

Jesse managed to pull his eyes open just in time to watch one of the guards throw Rosie to the ground. Reba reared back and laid the man out over the cobble with a solid swing to the jaw. Next thing he knew, the whole thing was chaos and Sally was trying to pull him to his feet.

“Come on, baby. We gotta get you outta here.” She whispered while she pulled his arm over her shoulders. Her daughter, Priscilla came up and got him on the other side. Prissy was one of the younger whores--the bastard child of Sally and an unnamed man like many of the children in this area--but she was pretty and probably made pretty good money. Jesse wished she wasn’t so young. He didn’t mind the girls who did this because they liked the work, those did exist, but he didn’t like it when fate forced them into it.

“Gotta protect them girls--” Jesse mumbled even as Sally and Prissy hauled him into the back door of a nearby brothel.

“‘Those girls’ are putting their necks out to protect your ass.” Priscilla snarled, “‘least you could do is comply with their wishes ‘n get outta sight.”

He hated to admit it, but she had a good point.

“‘Sides,” Sally snorted and helped Priscilla lay him down on a bed in their room. “Reba’s gonna chew ‘em up ‘n spit ‘em out.”

He laughed despite himself and let her unbutton his shirt to check for injuries. Sally had always been his favorite around here. The younger ones were very careful about keeping johns at arms’ distance--well, the ones that did well kept them there--the ones that didn’t ended up with broken hearts or got married. Older girls like Sally were good at keeping it professional while still being friends with their clients. He liked the older ladies, they were mature and didn’t get star struck at ‘prince’.

“Don’t you need to get out of Stonewall?” Prissy asked as she looked out the window in worry. “Those guards are gonna just keep coming.”

“I do,” He groaned when Sally grabbed a vial from a hidden chest under the floorboard and began dabbing it on his wounds. He recognized the shimmering as the same thing that’d healed his arm: Elf tears. Those were expensive. “Sally, darlin’, don’t use that on me. That’s yer whole month--”

“Shush up, Jesse.” She chided him as she dabbed the injuries and healed them up. “You’ve taken good care of me and Prissy. This is the least I can do for you.” She got up to the back of his head and started dabbing the tears there.

“At least take some coin, Sal’.” Jesse winced and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing and her pressing only made it worse. “At least a couple gold. I know it won’t pay fer that but I don’t feel right just lettin’ ya waste it on me.”

“Jesse,” Sally’s voice was soft while she carded her fingers gently through his hair and let the prince lay with his head in her lap. Everything was spinning and he just wanted to sleep. “Please let me do this for my king.”

“I ain’t the ki--”

She pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him gently. “Jack’ll never be my king.”

Treason had never sounded so good.

Sally waited for him to fall asleep there in her lap as she pet his hair and hummed softly under her breath. Jesse had taken good care of them here. In the months where the army was out quelling rebellions or dealing with creatures, he’d brought the brothels food to supplement the lost income. He was _never_ rough with the girls; hell, most of them preferred him for the handsome pay and the very gentle treatment. He hadn’t been back in the capital for very long, but there wasn’t a whore here that wouldn’t do whatever it took to protect Jesse.

“Prissy?” She called, scooting out from under Jesse and leaned over to gently press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, momma?” Priscilla asked as she pulled half cocked the rifle in her hand. The door shook and then Reba’s irate yelling could be heard. Whatever Priscilla saw out there had her uncocking her gun and lowering it. Reba could handle anything a man could throw out.

“We gotta get him out of town. Who do we know that can get him out to Eichenwalde?” That town had a reputation of ill repute as tainted as her own. He’d be safe there, no Royal Guard went within 100 yards of the walls.

“Uh… Well, I could see if the Guide is around?” He was known to get people in and out of tight situations if they really needed.

“We don’t have time for that. He takes too long to track down.” Sally shook her head, “What about his kid? He’s usually bumping around here.”

Priscilla’s petal-shaped lips formed an ‘o’ as she remembered there was someone else just as equipped and far easier to get ahold of. “Right! I think I saw him go up into Fio’s room.”

“Well he does have expensive taste.” Sally snorted. Fio was an _escort,_ rather than an ordinary whore like the rest of them. She had a nice estate and could charge an arm and a leg with the promise that she wouldn’t give those stiff politicians anything gross. She also made enough that she reserved the right to say ‘no’. That was a right that few working girls down here on the street could afford. Jesse made it easier, but even with supplemented groceries here and there that wouldn’t keep them fed forever.

“I could go knock on her door?” Priscilla offered as she chewed her lip. “They got rid of those other guards but I don’t know how long it’ll be before more show up…”

“‘S fine, baby. I’ve been thrown in jail before ‘n I can be thrown in jail again. Go get him.” Sally started to gather up a care basket for Jesse.

\---

Jesse was really starting to get sick of waking up in a strange places. This was twice in one week that an injury had left him out of commission. He sat up with a groan and held his throbbing head as he fought off a wave of motion sickness from the steady pull of a wagon. There was a canvas canopy and an old burlap that had been pulled over him but it did little to protect his already throbbing head from the light of the midday sun.

“I feel like I got knocked on m’ ass by a bull.” He rubbed his face as he shifted against the rest of the cargo and tried to get a look at the driver. He wasn’t in a prisoner transport--this looked like a cart that a merchant would have with the tied back barrels and crates of food--so he doubted very seriously that whoever this was was connected to Jack. It was more likely that Priscilla had pulled a few strings and gotten him picked up by someone already on their way out of town. He needed to get her something nice.

“Whoa, sit down there,” The driver leaned over and looked inside the wagon. He was younger than Jesse had been imagining he would be. This kid didn’t look a day over 20 with high cheekbones and warm eyes.

“Where are we? How long’ve I been out?” Jesse grumbled as he held his head and slowly crawled up over a barrel and onto the bench in front of the wagon. He wasn’t cargo and didn’t fancy riding in back like a ham hock.

“Outside of Stonewall, thankfully. Far enough that they’re not going to notice my cargo of cabbages becoming the Prince that everyone has been looking for all night and most of the morning.” His driver quipped and smiled with the edge of his mouth. Folks down in the southern desert did that when they were trying to be polite; Jesse did it too.

“Thank you, y’know,” He shrugged and retrieved his hat from where it had been sitting on a crate of potatoes, “Fer everything. I don’t know what Prissy paid you to get me out of town, but I ‘preciate you doin’ it. I’ll pay y’ handsomely, whenever I get my hands on some coin.”

“You don’t have to do that,” The driver gave a shrug and pulled his hood higher up on his head so that the long strands of mahogany hair was hidden beneath the green muslin. “I didn’t charge her anything, either.”

“That’s mighty kind of ya…” Jesse glanced over at the other, noting how lithe he was and how carefully he was keeping most of his head covered. His first instinct had been to say ‘Native Human’, what with the high cheekbones, but when he glanced up and caught the Prince with a pair of ruby eyes, he quickly began re-evaluating. “What’s your name?”

“Ena.” The response was quick but something about it made him question how genuine the name was. Maybe it was too freely given.

“Well, ‘m Jesse. Nice t’ meet you,” He smiled and offered over a hand. The driver didn’t take it and that didn’t surprise him any. It gave Jesse an excuse to lean in and get more details. He was a creamy tan like the native population, but he had freckles. Was that normal? Jesse couldn’t say. He’d never seen freckles so pale they looked like stars on the skin.

“Nice to meet you too.” Ena smiled tightly before shaking his head. He had to pull the hood in the center forward more as the wind threatened to push it off his head. Just for a moment, Jesse thought he could see the outline of a pointed ear underneath and that satisfied his curiosity for the moment. An Elf of any brand would want to keep their identity secret, even if Jack was busy hunting Jesse. Elves had never been welcomed with open arms around Civellan, but even less so now that Jack was technically in power.

It didn’t take a brilliant politician to know that when a far right, conservative nationalist came into power that it was going to bring out the creepy crawlies that usually wouldn’t be seen in the light of day.

“Where are we goin’?” Jesse asked as he stretched out and twisted in the seat to try and pop the cricks out of his lower back. “I gotta find mah sister.”

“We’re headed to Eichenwalde.” Ena spoke under his breath and checked over his shoulder as if he expected them to be followed. Paranoia made sense, all things considered. An Elf and the exiled Prince. That sounded like the opening to a bad paperback novel. “If you’re going to find help, it will be there. They shelter people like us.”

“Outcasts?” Jesse chuckled as he looked up at the brooding sky. The weather matched his mood. No matter how many fake smiles he pasted on, his brother was out to get him and his family was in pieces scattered to the wind. Rain sounded fitting.

“Rebels.” Ena corrected while tapping the reins against the back of his horse gently. “Whatever you were before, you’re a rebel now.”

“What are we rebellin’ against?” Jesse asked. Eichenwalde was large enough that it could actually be seen from the outermost walls of Stonewall, though that had always been mostly because of the huge tower that rose from the very center. That tower was on its side in a charred field and the ruins of buzzards dotted the low lying hills around its walls.

“The monarchy, Jesse. The monarchy and their fear of anything that isn’t like them.”

“So,” Jesse chuckled, “You mean to tell me, a prince, that I’m ragin’ against the machine with a buncha half bloods?”

“Yes.” Ena’s posture had curled up somewhat. Defensive. Jesse didn’t know what to say to that. He stared down to his shoes and counted the scuffs on each of the toes. He wasn’t the kind to leave air stagnant, but this wasn’t going well. Jesse prided himself on being personable to all kinds and he, frankly, didn’t give a _damn_ what race somebody was. That didn’t change the fear. What did you say in the face of terror like that?

“What are they doing?” Ena muttered under his breath, leaning forward and squinting at Eichenwalde. Jesse did the same, pulling the brim of his hat down further so the sun didn’t glare into his vision. There were guards standing in a ring around the town.

“Is that Eichenwalde’s standin’ guard?” Jesse asked as he took a glance over at the elf who was actually pulling the horses to slow.

“No,” He didn’t want to get close and Jesse didn’t blame him none for it. “The Eichenwalde guard wears a yellow and white cross on their left breast.” He tapped his own chest where the crest ought to sit. That was the Ziegler house symbol, it made sense that the garrisoned troops there would sport it.

Jesse looked back to the men standing guard. It was just a plain uniform, as far as he could tell. No house crest or special garrison pin on their chests. “So these are just… soldiers?”

“Eichenwalde was attacked yesterday--well, two days ago now--by raiders.” Ena provided, “That’s what took down the tower. A whole fleet of buzzards came out of the western mountains, or so I was told. Eichenwalde’s been holding out on the Rebellion, apparently a Dragon came out to save them.”

“Say again?” Jesse’s head snapped back around to regard the other man. “Dragon?” Well that damn near checked all the boxes. If Fareeha was going to be anywhere, it’d be here… and if this dragon was common enough knowledge that someone in Stonewall had heard, Ana would have heard too.

“Yes,” He nodded, “A storm wyrm.”

 _“Storm?”_ Jesse’s eyes widened slightly. That could only mean one thing and he didn’t want to think about it in the slightest.

“It breathed lightning, or so I heard.” Ena didn’t pull any punches with his information. Jesse liked that.

“Shit.” Jesse leaned heavily against the wall of the wagon behind him and stared at nothing while he tried to process what he’d just been told. The dragon that had taken Fareeha, presumably the only dragon in Civellan, was probably a noble wyrm. “Do you figure that’s relief?”

“To _Eichenwalde?”_ The man scoffed. “They get hit by a raid every other week and no relief has ever come. The crown knows they harbor half-breeds and magical races. There is no way they’d send anything to them.”

“Then why are there soldiers out there?” Jesse licked his bottom lip as he tried to think of any reason _other_ than mass genocide that a perimeter would be set up outside of a town.

“You got me.” His guide inhaled through his nose before pulling on the reins and began to turn the horses around. “I’m not going in there. If Jack’s going to burn everything to the ground, I’d very much like to not be inside. Thanks.”

“What about that Rebellion?” Jesse stood up. He wasn’t going to just leave this town. It was stupid, and Fareeha would bite his head off if she could see him now, but he had to know what was going on.

“The Rebillion is a myth, Jesse.” Ena snapped, turning his red eyes on the prince with a sneer. “What are a bunch of angry half-breeds going to do in the face of the entire fucking army?”

“Oh, I dunno, _not_ run off with yer tail tucked between yer legs? How about that?” Jesse was so sick of people pretending they could change things only to chicken out at the end when the people who needed them were at their most desperate. Looks like this guy is no different. “Stop this damn wagon, I’m getting off.”

“What? No!” Ena spat, continuing to turn the vehicle around on the, albeit, very narrow road. “Priscilla worked her ass off to get you out of Stonewall. You go up there and all that work is for nothing.”

“It’s easier t’ ask for forgiveness than permission, bucko.” Jesse jumped off the wagon and onto the dirt road below and nearly on his ass in the process. This was not what he thought it was and if it was, he was going to put an end to it. He started for the gate.

“This is stupid!” The wagon had stopped and his impromptu traveling partner jumped off. Jesse glanced back to catch a long pointed ear covered in sparkling jewelry before the green hood came back up. “You’re going to be killed. He wants you dead.”

“Yup.” Jesse pulled his cigar case from behind his back and set one between his lips before fumbling around for the pack of matches. It took a few pats before he located it.

“Are you just planning on walking right up to them?” Ena’s voice was hiking up in indignation.

“Yup.” Jesse struck a match and cupped his hands so that the flame could ignite the end of his cigarillo before puffing a few times to get the thing really started.

“Are you _insane!?”_

“Prolly.” Jesse chuckled from around his addiction of choice and hooked both thumbs into the waistband of his jeans while striding right up to the front door.

“They’re going to kill you. You know that right? You’re not making it out of there alive.” Ena’s light footsteps had stopped about thirty feet behind him as he continued to walk. He wasn’t kidding when he said there was no way he was going in there.

“Yer not the first person who’s told me that, kiddo, and I reckon y’ won’t be the last.” Jesse turned and tipped the brim of his hat at his flabbergasted elven companion and then continued on up to the gate. Anything they could try, Peacekeeper could do even faster.

Jesse sized up the guards as he approached the iconic dragon-sized entrance to Eichenwalde. Nothing special, it wasn’t even a lieutenant. This was an every day, run of the mill, soldier. Hell, he didn’t even recognize Jesse as he walked up. The scruffy beard made him harder to place, but Jesse had thought he was still had a pretty memorable mug. Apparently not. Ordinarily, he’d be offended, but right now this worked in his favor.

“Hey, I’m lookin’ t’ get into Eichenwalde. What’s goin’ on?” If he played it cool, there was a chance this could go smoothly.

“We’re not supposed to let anyone in or out, orders from the king.” That’s what Jesse had been afraid of. _‘Fuck, Jack. You’ve always been an asshole, but the ‘Evil Bastard’ is new.’_

“Really now?” Jesse’s eyebrows raised in fake surprise and he puffed on the cigarillo while sizing the guard up. “Why’s that? D’ you know?”

“It’s a quarantine,” The soldier shrugged and held his musket a little tighter to his side. “Apparently they’ve got something nasty inside and we’re supposed to keep everyone safe.”

“Well now, that’s noble,” It took every last ounce of his self-control not to let sarcasm bleed into that statement. So far as Jesse was concerned, ‘Quarantine’ was just a fancy word for murder. The soldiers had no idea what Jack was doing here, did they?

“Well, bucko, here’s the deal,” Jesse cracked a smile as he knocked ashes off onto the ground and took another puff. “I got a lady and an itty bitty in there that I’m missin’,” He gave a sweet smile. Phony, but sweet. “Let me get in there ‘n you can keep me in with the rest of ‘m. If the point is t’ protect everybody else, lettin’ somebody in ain’t no harm… right?”

The soldier glanced to the other at his right. They’d been supposed to keep the infected people inside from coming out. Jesse’s reasoning made plenty of sense, though. Why couldn’t people from the outside go in? They’d have to stay in.

“Throw me a bone, yeah? My old lady’ll be real upset if she finds out I didn’t come t’ die with her.” Only Jesse could make that sound less serious than it was.

“Let him in,” The other guard shrugged. “It won’t hurt anything.”

Jesse’s grin widened around the cigar as the portcullis that the humans used started to rise. If he was going to find Fareeha, she’d be in here. He suspected there wasn’t an outbreak of anything in here. Jack could fool everyone, else but he’d never fool Jesse.

“Thank ya kindly.” He tipped his hat at the pair of them and walked on in. The gate shut behind him firmly; it almost sounded like a guillotine. Now to locate Fareeha and the others. Eichenwalde had always been a bustling town, but the somber mood from the heavy clouds and their jailors ringing the city seemed to dampen the soul of this town. Without the gate open and trade flowing in and out, it wouldn’t take long for them to all begin starving. Eichenwalde needed the fields and grain silos nearby; this was essentially a siege.

“Ma’am?” He called, reaching out for the first friendly face he saw. It was an elderly woman, probably some brand of fae by her small stature and bright blue hair, but she seemed nice enough. “I’m looking for a Dragon. Do you know where the Dragon went?” He hoped they hadn’t already left. How would he get out of this town if they’d already managed to leave?

“Why are you talking to my grandma?” Jesse jumped away from the kindly old lady. The new voice belonged to a child with large eyes like an owl.

“I’m looking f’ my sister. She left Stonewall with a Dragon fella ‘n I need to find her.” Jesse explained. “She’s pretty tall, like so and has tan skin with a tattoo under her eye here. Looks like a rune.” He tapped his right eye.

“Ain’t heard of her.” The child was tight-lipped. Jesse tried to loosen those lips by offering him a gold coin. He didn’t take it. When Jesse offered him the lunch Priscilla had packed him, however, that worked.

“She’s was with Brigitte.” He shrugged, gesturing toward a dragon statue with a cleverly smoking mouth. “Brigitte has a workshop in the castle. I don’t know if she’s there any more.”

“You’re sure? I’ve got some candy…” Jesse offered a mint from the tin he kept in his pocket. To think, the last thing he did with Fareeha was steal her candies and scare the living daylights out of her. If he ever found her, he’d have to apologize.

“I’m sure, mister. I’ll take your candy though.” The prince chuckled and held the tin closer so the fae-child could have a better look at the contents. All the mints were the same but he took his time picking the one he thought would be the most delicious.

“Inside the castle, you say?” Jesse asked, trying to orient himself and get to Brigitte. _Of course_ Fareeha had found Brigitte. They’d been best friends when they were young. If he’d known that she was here in Eichenwalde, he would have just looked her up first.

“Yeah, go inside and walk to the back where the staircases are. Take it down and then head around to the right wall. You can’t miss her workshop-- It’s got ‘Lindholm’ on a sign outside the door!”

“I reckon that’d make it real obvious, wouldn’t it?” It was a place to start. “Thanks kid, I appreciate your help.” Jesse smiled and ruffled the feathers on top of his head affectionately and started toward the castle. Without the tower blocking his view, it was impossible to miss from any angle.

\---

_Tick… tock… tick… tock…_

Jack’s eyes flicked over to the large grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the war room and groaned into the hand he currently had over his mouth. This whole day was going too slowly and he just wanted the entire thing to be over. Gabe had been under the care of whatever doctors they could scrounge up ever since Jesse assaulted his guard while fleeing, and Jack just wanted to go and check on him. It was one thing for his messengers to come tell him that the man was fine, but Jack wanted to be there and see for himself. For all he knew, they were just telling him that to make him feel better.

A knock pulled his attention from the clock to the door. His War advisor--and childhood tutor--leaned on the frame with a bemused smile. “Jack, _Bello,_ what’s the matter? Crown too heavy already?”

He scoffed and crossed his legs the other direction. “The crown is fine, Antonio, I assure you.”

Antonio grinned easily and sidled into the room to take up the right hand position to Jack at the head of the table. He was early for the meeting, earlier than even Jack had expected him to be, though he didn’t mind. He’d always liked his tutor and the man had treated him like a son when Reinhardt had been out doing whatever it was he did instead of spending time with his children. “Really? You look worn out, Jack. Are you certain?”

“I’m very certain.” Jack smiled despite himself when the man laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Antonio always told Jack the truth and he liked that. No sugar coating it or trying to pretend the past never happened; Antonio gave him the details about things no one else wanted to talk about. He needed that information.

“So,” Antonio crossed his arms and flagged down a servant to grab him a glass of wine. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that I’ve gone from exile to the advisor to the crown. I’m honored you would remember your old teacher.”

When Reinhardt had found out that Antonio was teaching Jack about their time spent as slaves to the Elven species in Ulythyr, he hadn’t been pleased. Antonio was a nobleman, so it wasn’t as if he could have him killed, but he could exile him to his country house to keep him away from Jack. “How would I know my up from my down without you?”

“That’s true.” Antonio chuckled, accepting the goblet as it came and began to sip while leaning forward to admire the map of the world engraved into the war table. It had been made out of the most luxurious of materials available to them and even still, Jack had buried his letter opener right through the soft silver marker that indicated where the capital of Ulythyr, Porthuar, lay. A terrific use of a dull blade, in his opinion.

“You’re early,” Jack looked at the clock once more.

“Only by about ten minutes… do I need a good excuse to see my favorite king?” Antonio’s face spread into another of his wide grins.

“I had better be your _only_ king,” Jack snorted and yawned despite desperately trying not to. He’d been up all night worrying about Gabriel and as such, the fatigue was showing on his face.

“You completely missed the joke,” Antonio commented dryly, but relegated himself to sipping wine.

The second and third people to walk into the war room were Jack’s brand new intelligence advisors, Gérard and Amélie Lacroix. Jack stood up to greet them with an extended hand. Gérard had been the foremost spy on his father’s staff for years and while Jack couldn’t stand a great many of Reinhardt’s former advisors, he trusted Gérard to never steer him wrong. Between him and his wife--another of the deadliest assassins Civellan had ever seen--Jack was assured that his information would be complete and accurate.

“Your highness,” Gérard bowed, rather than extending a hand for a handshake. He already had a large file tucked under one arm and Jack hoped that was the personnel files he’d asked for.

“Lacroix, both of you. Thank you for coming.”

“Did we have a choice?” Amélie retorted cheekily. Jack liked how spunky she was.

“You didn’t, but it seemed fitting to thank you regardless.” He leaned forward in his high back oak chair and gestured for the files. Gérard dutifully handed them over and Jack began to look them over. His father had been keeping tabs on the most outspoken conservative and nationalist members of the nobility, merchants guilds, and peons for the last few decades. Anyone who seemed just a little _too_ gung-ho for the cause was kept in a list of files. They were never promoted because his father was weak, Jack planned to change that.

“Why do you want those files?” Gérard questioned, Jack didn’t give him an answer. He should know what Jack wanted with the files, as the new spymaster, and if he didn't then he'd need to be replaced.

“Have you found my brother yet?” The to-be-king asked, flipping through the pages idly.

“We have not--” Gérard’s mouth snapped shut as the next person appointed to Jack’s council entered the room. Marco Vialli, a noble from the gulf south of Stonewall, had been brought in to manage the financial side of running a country. Jack had never been a fan of keeping books, but Vialli had always been introducing new ideas to the Conglomerate of Nobles that were repeatedly shrugged off as too drastic. Jack needed to dig this country out of the debt that Reinhardt had put it in; nothing was too drastic.

“Welcome, Marco. Good to see you.” Jack had never understood why no one else took the House of Vialli seriously. They were nobles just like anyone else, probably the only nobles that kept their books in the black. Sure, that was because they had elves working for free, but that was legal so who were they to judge? The elves had always been more than content to keep _them_ as slaves.

“Good to see you too, Jack!” Marco was bubbly and easy to get along with, Jack liked that. “Ah, Antonio!” Marco settled in right beside the War Councilor and handed him a gold coin. “There, I’m paid up. That’s the last time I play poker with you.”

“It won’t be, I’m sure. You can’t turn down a challenge, never could.” Antonio chuckled and tucked the coin into his breast pocket. Gérard narrowed his eyes at them both.  

“So, have you had time to look over those new taxes I sent you?” Marco asked, leaning into Jack around Antonio.

“No, I haven’t. It’s been hectic and I haven’t even been crowned yet.” Jack rubbed his face as if that would magically remove the headache.

“Don’t worry about it! You’ll have time, they won’t go bad.” Vialli was patient with Jack and the still-Prince liked that. He had enough problems to worry about before his council got pushy. The door to the War Room opened another time, just a few minutes before it was set to start and the three final members of his cabinet came in.

The first man through the door was Sanjay Korpal, a member of the merchant class by the deep hue of his skin, but a skilled negotiator the likes of which Jack had never seen. Jack had been determined to get him on his council ever since he had single-handedly navigated them out of a trade war with Medrawt a few years back. He had been utterly delighted when the man had said ‘yes’ to the proposal and came on board.

Next was the Speaker of the House, Satya Vaswani. She was also a member of the merchant class and, by all accounts, the hardest to work for. This woman wanted everything to be _just so._ She ran the House of Representatives with an iron fist and everything on the docket came and went on time. Jack didn’t get a choice in who the house sent to these meetings, as they were the majority leader of whomever the People elected, but he would tolerate her.

Speaking of Majority Leaders, the Senate Majority Leader was in the door last.  Jack was worried he might break a hip; the man looked old enough that every time he tilted too much to one way or the other it looked like he'd fall over. The last thing he wanted to do was postpone the meeting while someone got a replacement for Milo Charter. “Forgive me if I’m a bit late,” Milo chuckled and sat down heavily in the final chair at the end of the table. “The Committee of Commerce ran late, we had to bring in some nobles for a hearing and they’re all Conglomerate and so, well, it ran late.”

Anything that had anything to do with the Conglomerate usually did.

The Conglomerate of Nobles came around in the time of Jack’s grandfather. During this time, the middle class and working class were starting to gain more and more power. They’d been pushing for less power in the noble class and more in the House and Senate for years, but this was when they nearly dethroned the king.

Nobles had been essentially allowed to do whatever they wanted on their land to their citizens until the merchant class rose up and passed laws allowing unionizing. These unions ran aground with some Nobles who didn’t want to bow to their demands. As a result, tensions escalated and nearly broke into a full scale revolt. The laws in place that protected unions were strengthened because Jack’s grandfather had placed progressive judges in the Supreme Court. When they ruled that the nobles didn’t have the right to dissolve or ignore the protections set in place for unions, the unions pushed back while calling for the fall of the nobility all together.

It was Thomas Vialli who came up with the brilliant idea that the _nobility_ should unionize. If they all banded together under the name of a union, then they couldn’t be bullied by the merchant class either. So they did, becoming the Conglomerate of Nobles. Under the bylaws of the union, Jack--or whomever the reigning King was--would be their leader and they were untouchable. It took nearly 60 years before the union would become an actual sector of government, presiding alongside the House, Senate, and Supreme Court.

Unionizing had pigeon-holed them into set rules that they could follow, but Jack knew how to bend those rules and exploit their weak points.

“Alright, now that we’re all here we can start on the meeting,” Jack grumbled and grabbed his notes from beside him. “I’d like to try and make this as brief as possible, since I have other matters to attend to and I’m sure you all do as well.”

He leaned forward slid out papers to Satya and Milo. “That’s an executive order which you’ll need to bring to the assemblies. In response to the low morale that the country will be experiencing during these trying times, Sanjay and I have been working on some pamphlets and signs to try and brighten the mood.”

“If they’re only to ‘brighten the mood’, why are we lawfully forced to display them?” Satya asked as she scrutinized her copy of the order. Milo was still smiling, blissfully unaware, as Amèlie slipped the paper away from him and started to read it. Her lips tipped into a deep frown and she handed it to her husband for him to read.

“The executive order is only to allow me to allocate federal funds to a lordship-level endeavor.” Jack pasted on his kindest smile and bridged his fingers together on the table in front of him. “I wouldn’t want you to have to pay for my demands.”

“It sounds wonderful!” Milo announced even as Satya pursed her lips and read over it again.

“Now, for the coronation,” Jack moved directly to the next thing while putting out another set of papers. “I want it to be aired on the radio. I know it’s new technology--” Though most homes in the country owned a radio and would be able to tune in. “It’ll help them feel more comfortable with the crown. We’ve been out of reach for too long, it’s time to talk to the people.”

“I agree it’s a good idea to talk to your constituents--” Satya began, but was cut off by Sanjay.

“That’s a wonderful idea, sire!” He chimed. The way he overwhelmed her voice made her clench her teeth.

“Thank you, Sanjay. The whole thing is only a few days away but if we could try to make it more well known that it will be broadcast over the radio, that would be best. I’ve called for Kite Scouts so we can distribute pamphlets over towns even further away.” Jack explained before skirting on to his next point before Satya could get out any objections. 

This meeting was never meant to be interesting. He’d known it when he called it to order and he knew it now, this meeting was a formality just to get the information distributed. None of what happened here actually mattered as much as what his advisors and he were working on because it was full of people they hadn’t invited and didn’t want. Milo was easy to get along with, but Satya continued to interject her disagreement with policies.

By the time it was over, Jack couldn’t wait to get out of there. It’d been meant to be short and yet it had run longer than it was intended to thanks to Representative Vaswani’s constant questions. He didn’t like how many concerns she had.

Jack jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder and he whipped around to realize that as everyone else was filtering out, Antonio was still there in the room with him.

“Antonio… Was there something you needed from me?” Jack asked, antsy to get out of this room and back to the hospital where Gabe was recovering.

“We’ve gotten everything ready for the coronation,” Antonio murmured, looking Jack in the eye. The to-be-king nodded in response.

“Good. I need this to go off without a hitch. I need the people on _my_ side.” Jack walked with him to the door before shutting it behind Antonio and locking it.

“When I’m done, they will be.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter, y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! As you probably know by now, I've been hanging out with the Author of Of Monsters And Men (she is fantastic and the story is amazing, it's definitely worth a read), and we hang out in a discord server together for fans, authors, anyone to really hang out and enjoy ruminating on good fanfiction. Sometimes we post sneak peaks and every so often, I need a beta to read the new chapter before it goes up. 
> 
> If you're interested in something like that, here is the link: https://discord.gg/hR2wUbD
> 
> We'd love to see you there! As always, please leave a comment if you like it along with any theories or questions you might have. I love hearing from you all and thank you!
> 
> Ladie


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